


One Missed Call

by thanku4urlove



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (all of these relate to different relationships!!), (not just one that's an insane roller coaster ride lol), (that's an actual tag? huh), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Animal Transformation, Blood and Injury, Communication, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I dunno man this fic is a mixed bag, Kisses, Love Confessions, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Alternating, Romance, Secret Relationship, Superpowers, Time Shenanigans, Time Travel, that is an EXCELLENT tag, wait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 78,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanku4urlove/pseuds/thanku4urlove
Summary: A voicemail from the future kick-starts a course of action. With nothing to go on but worrying words, Vernon tries to do what is right, Mingyu tries to pretend none of it is happening, and Jeonghan tries to protect those he loves. But is time even able to be changed?A SEVENTEEN superpowers AU inspired by the Call Call Call mv.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Chwe Hansol | Vernon/Hong Jisoo | Joshua, Kim Mingyu/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Wen Jun Hui | Jun/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 268
Kudos: 298





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay I had a bit of a hard time summarizing this fic but if you're looking for superpowers, drama, and other shenanigans, then here you go. enjoy your stay! this fic will be updated twice a week.  
> additional warning in this chapter for one (1) very short bullying scene (it's literally one 3 sentence paragraph)  
> also happy birthday junhui!!! you are a certified ray of sunshine and I love u very much

**_01_ **

“You think I’m pretty and you want to be my friend.” 

Vernon blinked in surprise. The boy standing in front of him didn’t react much to his shock, his head tilted slightly to the side as he looked right back at Vernon, waiting for a response. He looked a little older than Vernon himself, maybe twelve instead of ten, with bright eyes. He… Well, he  _ was _ pretty, and Vernon had been watching him running around the playground from where he’d been sitting on the swings. He  _ did _ want to be this boy’s friend. So he answered honestly. 

“Yeah.” 

The boy beamed, his eyes shrinking above the happiness in his cheeks, and he held a hand out to Vernon in invitation, pulling him to his feet. Over the next two hours Vernon learned that this boy’s name was Joshua Hong, that he was indeed older than Vernon by about two years and then some, that they lived in the same neighborhood, and that Joshua could read minds. 

Vernon had never met a mind reader before, and once that information was shared they sat together on the swingset, Vernon thinking about a phrase really hard in his mind, just for Joshua to repeat it back at him and laugh. 

“You don’t have to think it so loud.” Joshua told him. “It’s like you’re yelling at me. I’m sitting right next to you.” 

After about fifteen minutes of trying to think about things at different volumes--the concept of “mental volume” something that Vernon was having a bit of a hard time wrapping his head around--Joshua had still been able to repeat everything in his mind back to him. So Vernon tried something else, Joshua tilting his head curiously. 

_ “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.”  _ He relayed, and then it was Vernon’s turn to be surprised. He’d thought the pangram in English, and when Joshua had said it back, he’d said it in English too. He had a bit of a lilt to his voice, but no Korean accent anywhere. 

“Yeah, I speak English.” Joshua answered, before Vernon had the chance to ask. “I was born in California, and my family goes back to visit every summer.”

“You don’t look American.” Vernon responded dubiously. “You don’t…”

“What, I don’t look like you?” Joshua finished for him. Vernon felt his face go hot with embarrassment--he’d left the words unsaid for a reason--but Joshua just shrugged. “My parents are both Korean. I was born there, though. In California, I mean.” 

“And you still visit there a lot?” Vernon asked. He’d been born in New York, and he’d gone back to visit a couple of times, but Korea was his home for sure. Joshua nodded. 

“I have friends over there, and family and stuff.” He fixed Vernon with another look, a look similar to the one he’d had on his face when he’d first come over to him, and Vernon found himself braced for another strange sentence out of Joshua. “Do you want to be my friend?” 

Oh. Not so strange. Same answer, though. 

“Yeah.” 

Again, Joshua smiled in a way that made his teeth show and his eyes disappear, and like that they were inseparable. Living in the same neighborhood meant they went to the same school, and while they didn’t have any shared classes from being in different grades, they could meet up at lunch, and still walked back and forth together at the end of the day. Joshua would tell him secrets, things he’d overheard that he thought were worth sharing, and they would talk. On days they didn’t have school they would still play together somewhere, and for the first time in his life Vernon dreaded summer break starting, because summer break meant that Joshua would be going to California for weeks and weeks. 

Their first summer apart was painful, listless and boring. The second summer, Vernon made sure to catch Joshua before he left, pressing a piece of paper with his home phone number into his palm, Joshua’s fingers curling over his. They talked on the phone a couple of days a week, the conversations lasting long enough for his mother to start complaining. 

Joshua was more talkative than he was, something Vernon was fine with, but it made it very obvious when something was on his mind. He would go quiet, and Vernon was glad for it when he noticed it, glad he had some way to know, at least a little, what Joshua was thinking too. 

“What is it?” He asked one day, when they’d been walking home for ten minutes and Joshua had been quiet for four of them. He didn’t need to elaborate further, but it still took Joshua a few moments to get the question out, looking abashed as he spoke. 

“What’s your ability?” He asked. “I wanted to try and figure it out on my own, but I can’t; whatever it is, you don’t really think about it much.”

“Oh.” Vernon hadn’t been expecting that. “It’s…” He didn’t mind Joshua asking, but it was hard to explain. Thankfully, Joshua didn’t misunderstand his silence, simply waiting for him to collect his thoughts. “I can learn things about objects from touching them.”

“Really?” Joshua’s eyes were curious and excited. “Like what? Like how they were made?” 

“No, like…” Again, it was hard to describe, Vernon trying to piece together an explanation. “When I touch something, I can see the last thing that happened to it. When I touch a person, I can see the last place they’ve been. If two things are always together, like shoes or something, if one of them is missing I can touch the other one and see where it is.” He’d helped his mom find an earring that way a couple of times. “And… I can choose when I want to do it, so that’s good.”

Vernon was glad his ability was voluntary. Joshua’s ability wasn’t, and as a result, he was unable to help but hear what people were thinking, something he confessed could be overwhelming at times. Vernon didn’t want to have visions every time he touched something. 

Joshua held out his arm, both a request to see his ability in action and an offering to use his school uniform jacket as the object he touched. Vernon came to a stop, resting his hand on Joshua’s forearm and closing his eyes. 

The visions didn’t have sound, something he was glad for as the last thing that acted on Joshua’s jacket played out before his eyes. School was letting out, and before Vernon could brace himself, he watched Joshua getting shoved into a wall of the hallway by a bigger boy with an awful expression. Joshua’s shoulder hit the wall so hard he stumbled, the classmate’s mouth forming curses of abuse that were hurled over his shoulder at Joshua, copied by a couple of his following cronies. 

The visions only lasted a couple of seconds. Vernon usually wished they would last longer to give him more information, but he was glad this was over quickly, opening his eyes and meeting Joshua’s gaze. Joshua could obviously hear Vernon’s shock, hear what Vernon was thinking, and he quickly looked away. 

“People are bullying you?” Vernon asked, a flare of anger in his chest that had his fists clenching. This had to be a new development; Joshua was now in his first year in high school, and Vernon had never seen anything like this when they’d gone to middle school together, when he’d met Joshua for lunch or passed by him in the hallway. 

“It’s really not that bad.” Joshua’s eyes were on his feet, his lips parted, lifting one shoulder as though to shrug before completely aborting the motion. “Some people in my class think I’m gay.”

“So? That shouldn’t--”

“And--and I am.”

They were both still standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, only halfway home. It felt like a big moment, and Vernon wasn’t sure what to say; he hadn’t known before, but the confession didn’t really surprise him either. 

“That still doesn’t give them the right to push you around.” He said, arms crossed. He looked up at Joshua, who was finally looking back at him. 

“Thanks for not letting it bother you.” Joshua said softly, but he still looked painfully reserved and Vernon hated it, stepping forwards and wrapping Joshua in a hug. Partially because Joshua looked like he needed a hug, partially because he wanted to give Joshua a hug, and partially because he didn’t want the casual closeness that they’d always had--knees pressed together when they unreasonably sat on the same couch cushion, fingers brushing when they handed each other things, shoulders bumping when they walked--to go away. That touching him was still okay. That Joshua didn’t need to be shy and careful about it. 

Joshua relaxed in his arms, laughing a little when he pulled away, conversation picking up again as they finished their walk home. 

Usually the stuff Joshua shared with him from throughout the day was inconsequential, random happenings or fun gossip, so Vernon was caught completely off guard when Joshua met up with him in the corner where the middle school and high schools were the closest and announced,

“Today I met a boy with no brain.”

“That’s… That’s actually impossible.” Vernon countered. “Everybody has a brain.”

“Well, I couldn’t hear it.” Joshua sounded a bit miffed. “I had to take a test today, and there was another student in the room with me.”

“Really?” Vernon asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Whenever Joshua took tests or quizzes in school, he was made to move to a different classroom so he couldn’t cheat. 

“They knew, I guess. Whatever that guy’s ability is; I can’t hear his thoughts.”

Vernon heard about this guy every day for a week, and the next week Joshua showed up at their meeting spot with a stranger next to him. The newcomer was lanky and a bit awkward looking, with a prominent nose and nearly shoulder-length dark hair. 

“This is Junhui!” Joshua told him. “I want you to touch him.” 

Vernon stared at Joshua, and Junhui stared at Joshua, and after a moment of looking between the two of them, Joshua’s face turned pink and he burst out laughing. 

“I--I mean… Hold on.” Joshua put his hands over his face, and Vernon turned to Junhui. 

“Uh, hi.” He said, feeling that an introduction was slightly overdue. Junhui gave him a bit of a grateful smile, and Vernon couldn’t help but think that maybe he felt the same way. “I’m Joshua’s friend, Vernon.”

“I know.” Junhui said. His voice had a noticeable accent to it that Vernon couldn’t place, one that he later learned came from being born and raised in China. “He talks about you a lot. I’m new; I’m in Joshua’s class.” 

“I know.” Vernon decided to say back, and Joshua laughed a little. “He talks about you a lot too.” 

Junhui gave Joshua a surprised look at that piece of information. 

“I’ve been trying to figure it out.” Joshua explained. His ears were still pink, which struck Vernon as cute. “Because you say that you don’t have an ability, right?” 

Junhui gave a bit of a shrug. “I can’t really do anything.” He said simply. 

“Except that everybody has an ability. So I want to see if your ability works on him.” Joshua told Vernon. “I was talking to him, and he said he’s never met someone who’s ability works on him. So maybe that’s why I can’t read his mind, right?”

“What, so he’s immune to abilities or something?” Vernon asked. 

“Maybe!” Joshua was very excited by the idea. Already knowing he wouldn’t be able to deny a request from Joshua, Vernon held a hand out in Junhui’s direction. 

“Do you mind?” He asked. After a hesitant moment, Junhui shook his head, so Vernon let himself reach the rest of the way, touching the sleeve of Junhui’s uniform jacket and closing his eyes.

Nothing. He tried harder, squeezing his eyes closed, tightening his grip on the fabric of the uniform. It didn’t feel like there was a block in the way, it didn’t feel like he was being met with any resistance; it just felt the way he felt when he touched something without the intention of using his ability. It also made him feel a bit stupid, standing there holding onto a stranger’s sleeve with his eyes closed, so he he let Junhui go and took a step back. 

“Yeah, it’s not working.” He said, and Joshua’s eyes lit up. They invited Junhui with them, talking about the possibility of Junhui’s immunity ability their entire way to the park. 

“So, uh… What were you trying to do to me?” Junhui asked Vernon hesitantly, his tentative expression causing the two of them to burst out laughing. 

By the end of the day, Junhui was officially added to their tiny friend group. It was nice to have him around, especially when Joshua left yet again for California the following summer. It definitely wasn’t the same; Junhui was quiet and awkward and at first it was a little hard to think of things they could do together, but by the end of the summer they were much closer. 

Vernon always felt that his relationship with Joshua was different whenever he went overseas. Vernon wasn’t really the type to talk for hours, but turned into that person when it was Joshua on the phone; he wasn’t the type to receive letters, but Joshua would send him little trinkets he would get in California, and Vernon would be able to touch the items and see Joshua picking them out and packaging them, the events kept safe by the envelope they were wrapped in for transit. He knew Joshua sent them for that reason, always excited when Vernon got the packages he sent, sometimes requesting that Vernon not open them until they were on the phone together.

The summer after Vernon’s first year of high school, video calls were introduced to the ways they could contact each other when apart, and then Vernon really didn’t get much sleep at all, willing to fight the seventeen hour time difference to see Joshua’s face. 

“I don’t like this.” Joshua complained, a pout on his face and a whine in his voice. “I don’t like talking to you without knowing what you’re about to say. It’s weird.” 

Vernon laughed a little. “Welcome to how I feel.” He said. It was funny, the difference between talking to Joshua in person and not, or watching him talk to Junhui; his response time was slower when he didn’t know what Vernon was going to say, and had to actually wait until he was done speaking to come up with a response. “Why do you let me talk, anyway?” 

Joshua frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“You always wait until I’m done talking, even though you know what I’m going to say.” Vernon told him. And he knew that this was something that Joshua did with intention, because other people weren’t always granted the same luxury; Joshua was prone to cutting people off, and being in his house was always a bit much for Vernon to handle, with both of Joshua’s parents also being mind readers. Vernon often missed a couple of steps of conversation that all happened mentally between Joshua and his parents, and was usually left hopelessly confused until someone took pity and explained things to him. 

“Oh. I don’t know.” Joshua shrugged a little, but he didn’t look embarrassed; he looked like he was considering something he’d never thought about before. “I just like listening to your voice, I guess.” 

The three of them all being in high school together led to them abandoning the park in the neighborhood and going out instead, wasting time in arcades or wandering the mall like high schoolers often did. Since they didn’t really have money to spend, they played dumb games instead, and an instant favorite was a game that was really just a series of dares--because the ‘truth’ aspect of  _ Truth or Dare  _ felt unfair with Joshua there, anyway--mostly because how funny Junhui could be. 

It was Joshua’s turn, having been dared by Junhui to spook someone. They’d been wandering the food court for a while, but Vernon and Junhui had finally stopped hurmoring Joshua’s thin excuse of looking for the perfect target and had pushed him to the masses instead. They watched as Joshua snuck up on someone, but just before he could do any type of jumping-and-yelling action the target turned, all of them met with the sight of a boy younger than them, already pointing at Joshua with his mouth half open. 

“You were going to scare me!” The stranger accused. 

“And… You already knew I was coming.” Joshua said back, looking equally surprised. “How--?” 

The stranger’s name was Lee Chan, and he had the ability of short-term premonition--he could see things a moment before they happened, giving him lightning reflexes--and once they’d apologized for dragging him into their game of dares, he heard the rules and wanted to play too. Chan was both fun and funny, an absolute ball of light that could probably stand to have a little more shame about embarrassing himself in public. 

They had a lot of fun hanging out with him, and he seemed to have fun with them too, giving them all his phone number and insisting that they message him. They met up again the following weekend, then the weekend after that too. Chan lived the farthest away, but once they found out that his family was well off, the distance didn’t matter; the large basement of Chan’s large house, filled to the brim with games and snacks, turned Chan’s place into their designated hang out spot after they visited it for the first time. 

Of all of them, it wasn’t surprising that Junhui got a job first. He took to tutoring kids after school, and for a couple of hours on the weekends. It seemed to pay well, and thankfully it didn’t keep him so busy that it cut too much into his time with them. A few months into this new job, Junhui walked into Chan’s basement without introduction, stepped into the middle of the room, and slid his entire body under the table.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed at him, reaching down to put a hand on his shoulder because Vernon and Chan were too busy laughing to even attempt to intervene. “What are you doing?”

The table had a clear top, so they could all watch as Junhui rolled over and shoved his face into the rug. He stayed silent, prompting Joshua to shake his shoulder.

“Come on, what happened?” Chan asked, though there was still a laugh in his voice. “Not all of us can read your mind.”

“None of us can read your mind.” Joshua amended. “Is something wrong?”

Junhui rolled onto his back obligingly, his eyes closed, his hands on his chest.

“New student.” He said. “Year younger than me.”

“And what, he sucks?” Vernon guessed. Junhui shook his head emphatically.

“He... He’s quiet, and--and he’s Chinese; I’m supposed to be teaching him Korean.”

“Supposed to be?” Joshua asked.

“I am. I am!” Junhui insisted, his eyes opening. “I just...” His next words were so quiet that Vernon almost missed them. “He’s really cute.”

Junhui’s embarrassment of the admittance was amusing, Vernon glancing around and noticing that while all three of them were smiling, they were all smiles for much different reasons; Joshua looked delighted, and Chan’s lips were curled into an expression that was ready to tease.

“Isn’t that good?” Vernon asked. “You get to teach someone cute. You’ll get to see him a lot, right?”

“Three times a week.”

“And this makes you want to lay on the floor because...?” Joshua trailed off after the prompting question, and Junhui let out a slight groaning sort of sound.

“I met him today, and he was so... His eyes, and his face--” Junhui’s descriptions were very lacking, but in his compromised state, Vernon didn’t have confidence that he could do much better. “--and he greeted me in Mandarin, and I was so surprised that I...”

Junhui covered his face with his hands. It took all of them prompting to actually get him to speak again, and when he did the words were muffled with embarrassment.

“I accidentally spit on him. On his face.”

Chan was on the floor in a second, half landing on Junhui’s legs as his laughter carried him completely off the couch. They all were laughing, Vernon gasping as he tried to ask a follow-up question.

“What--what did he do?”

“He was really nice about it?” Junhui’s voice lilted upwards into what was either confusion or despair, and he still had his hands over his face, though no one tried to get him to move them now that they knew his reasoning behind trying to bury himself face-first in the rug and maybe stay there forever. “He didn’t... He didn’t really mention it.”

“When are you going to see him again?” Joshua asked.

“Tuesday.” Junhui sighed. “If I haven’t completely keeled over before then.”

Chan had finally stopped laughing, sitting up, wiping at his eyes, and looking at Junhui for a few moments before collapsing with his back against the seat of the couch, his head tilted back, his hands drawn up to his chest and his eyes closed as he fell into giggles again.

Despite their pestering, they didn’t hear much about Junhui’s new student the following Tuesday. It took about a week for Junhui to update them, short and to the point.

“I’m in love with him.”

“That was fast.” Joshua remarked.

“He’s a breakdancer.”

That information interested Chan greatly, and sure it was cool, but Vernon didn’t really get why that was the deciding factor about Junhui now being in love.

“And that’s good for you because... What, he’s all bendy and stuff?” He asked. Joshua let out an indignant yelp and shoved his face into Vernon’s shoulder, Junhui turning an almost painful-looking shade of red.

“I--I mean--” Junhui stuttered off and stopped, finally saying weakly, “...probably?”

“What’s his name, anyway?” Chan asked, clearly in an attempt to reroute the conversation.

“Xu Minghao.”

“And when are we going to meet him?”

That question threw Junhui off a bit.

“I... We don’t really hang out much outside of tutoring times.” He admitted. “We... We’re not really friends, I guess.”

“So invite him to hang out!” Chan exclaimed enthusiastically, as though asking one’s crush out was just that easy. “We’ll all go to a movie or something.”

“I promise we won’t talk about how bendy he is.” Vernon said. Joshua, who had just begun to recover from what Vernon had said earlier, slumped onto his shoulder all over again, Vernon unable not to smile and reach around Joshua’s shoulders to mess up his hair.

Maybe Junhui didn’t believe him, but in the weeks that followed, they still didn’t meet Minghao. They didn’t hear that Junhui and Minghao had swapped phone numbers until they caught Junhui beaming at his phone and Chan managed to wrestle it away from him to see the screen. They didn’t get a play-by-play of their first date until Joshua almost physically dragged it out of him, though Junhui was an adorable mix of beaming and bashful the entire time, so much so that on occasion it was hard to understand him. It wasn’t until Minghao was officially Junhui’s boyfriend that he agreed to bring him to Chan’s to meet them. 

Minghao was definitely cute. He had dark hair and big eyes and simply looked small, maybe due to the oversized clothes he was wearing, or how thin he was, or how he was a couple of inches shorter than Junhui, nestled comfortably into Junhui’s side. He had a sweet face, all soft around the edges, and Vernon held a hand out in introduction. 

He liked to shake hands when he met new people, excusing it off as being American but using it as a way to touch them and see what he could learn. It usually didn’t show him much at all, but it did make him less nervous; it made the person feel like less of a stranger. 

Vernon had braced himself for a couple of things he thought he might see by touching Minghao--most of them having to do with watching Junhui kiss someone and hoping that it wouldn’t be too uncomfortably close--but the vision that flashed across Vernon’s eyes was nothing that he expected. 

Minghao was inside a parking garage. He was looking at Junhui, his hands on Junhui’s biceps, Junhui’s face a complex picture of hurt, worry, fear, relief, and love as he looked back. There was something almost brutal about how raw and real the expression was, and seeing it made Vernon’s stomach twist. Then, under their feet and all around them, the parking garage they were standing in collapsed. 

Despite the years of practice he had of trying to touch people without them noticing, Vernon couldn’t help a gasp. He tilted his head down and began to cough, stumbling backwards and apologizing, trying to pass it off as choking on his own spit as he retreated. Chan stepped up to say hello and Joshua turned to Vernon, rubbing his back with concern on his face. 

Vernon’s ability was supposed to let him see the last thing that had happened to a person. He should have seen whatever had happened to Minghao just before he’d walked in; him approaching the house with Junhui, or greeting Chan’s mother. Minghao looked safe and unscathed and not at all like he’d just survived being inside a collapsing building, and Vernon met Joshua’s eyes. 

_ There’s something strange about him.  _ He told Joshua. Not bad--Vernon didn’t see how any of this could be Minghao’s fault, with his huge fuzzy sweater and timid voice--just weird. Wrong, somehow. 

As a result, Joshua didn’t reveal his ability to Minghao either, just greeting him instead, all of them sitting around the basement together. 

“This place is… Interesting.” Minghao said after a moment, and Chan laughed. 

“Yeah, my mom decorated it.” He explained. “It was mostly a place to store some old stuff, but she wanted me to be able to play in here too, so they put couches in and stuff.” 

The basement’s decor was interesting, the colors making it look like a fever dream from the eighties. Vernon had grown used to it, more or less; he’d been very interested when he’d first walked in and saw the working lava lamp up on a shelf, but had lost interest equally quickly when he’d learned that the jukebox in the corner was just for decoration. Only one of the three boom boxes on the back shelves was functional, and there was a phone on one of the tables that couldn’t place or receive calls, but would light up pink when plugged in.

They talked for a couple of hours, and despite Vernon’s unease, nothing Minghao said or did struck Vernon as out of the ordinary. He was quiet and shy and seemed a little unsure of himself when he spoke, though that might have been due to how heavy his accent was on his words. Junhui took Minghao home, then came immediately back to Chan’s to ask them all about him, and Vernon was able to say with honesty that he had liked Minghao. He was just confused.

“Did… Has anything ever happened to him?” Joshua asked hesitantly. Junhui frowned.

“Happened to him?” He asked back, like he didn’t understand the question, and Vernon realized what Joshua was trying to ask about. 

“Has he ever been in like… Some kind of accident?” Joshua was trying to be vague, and worry lines creased Junhui’s forehead.

“Not that I know of. Why, did you hear something?” 

“I’m not sure.” Joshua lied. Or maybe it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth, either. “His thoughts are hard to understand; I don’t speak Mandarin.” 

Junhui just nodded a bit, unsure of what to do with that, and spoke again after a moment. 

“Well, he said that you all seem nice. He feels a bit bad about being so quiet, but he’s shy.” 

“That’s fine!” Chan said happily. He had no inkling that anything was amiss. “I liked him. I’m sure he’ll come out of his shell soon.” 

It wasn’t until Vernon and Joshua were on their way home together that the vision Vernon had seen was brought up. 

“Show me again.” Joshua requested. Vernon did his best to recall the vision, watching Joshua’s face as he watched it in Vernon’s mind. 

“Where even are they?” He asked. “The clothes are all different, and Junhui was there. This definitely didn’t happen in the past; Junhui would have told us about it. He wouldn’t have to tell us; it’s an entire parking garage coming down. It would have been on the news.”

“Are you trying to say that the last thing that happened to Minghao… Happened in the future?” Vernon asked, feeling unable to wrap his head around the idea. This wasn’t how his ability worked; he couldn’t see the future. He’d never been able to see the future, and wasn’t keen on starting now. 

“I don’t know.” Joshua’s eyes were on the ground, his lips drawn together. “None of it really makes sense. But…” He paused for a moment before bumping his shoulder against Vernon’s own. “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“That was just a scary thing to see, that’s all.” 

It had been scary. It  _ was  _ scary. Vernon shrugged a little, and Joshua stepped a little closer as they walked to hold onto Vernon’s arm. 

“I’m just nervous, I guess. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“We’ll investigate it then, okay?” 

Vernon nodded in agreement. The rest of their walk was silent, and Joshua hugged him before they parted ways.

While Junhui having a job didn’t really cut into their hangout time with him, Junhui having a boyfriend definitely did. He would come over to Chan’s about once a week, maybe twice if they were really lucky, and Minghao was always with him, so he didn’t stay long. Vernon tried to touch Minghao every time he came over, and every time he did, he would see the same thing; Junhui’s horrible expression, the two of them holding each other, and the parking garage crumbling under their feet. 

Despite this, they all liked Minghao well enough. It was almost painful how quiet he was, and while most of the attempts Vernon made to engage him in conversation ended in simple answers, he still tried anyway. Minghao was definitely interesting, his unique fashion choices and little offhand remarks hinting at a funny and brazen personality that all of them could see and were excited to get to know. 

It was obvious that this hidden Minghao was a Minghao that Junhui already knew. The way they interacted was something else, a level of closeness that Vernon didn’t think he had with anyone, though Joshua probably came close. They hadn’t been dating long but moved around each other with ease, fitting perfectly and comfortably into each other’s space, the expressions they had when looking at each other incredible in their softness but so subtle and natural that it was hard to notice them until they looked at someone else, and the expression was gone. 

Vernon was tempted to tease Junhui for how smitten he was, and Chan sometimes tried, but Junhui--while embarrassed--was also so steadfast in his feelings for Minghao that it wasn’t really that fun. They talked about it sometimes when Junhui wasn’t there; Joshua wasn’t able to read Junhui’s mind, but none of them needed to do that to tell that Junhui had fallen hard, fallen fast, and wasn’t planning on letting go any time soon. 

Minghao was harder for them to read. Well, for almost all of them. Joshua would share cute moments he’d notice in Minghao’s thoughts once Minghao and Junhui had gone, but one day, a couple months in, Junhui and Minghao retreated upstairs to Chan’s kitchen to look for food and an incredible smile broke out on Joshua’s face, Vernon watching the expression with a mixture of amusement and fond confusion before Joshua turned to him and completely face planted into Vernon’s chest.

“What?” Vernon asked with a laugh, his arms going around Joshua automatically, Chan laughing too at the way Joshua had seemingly melted. Joshua had been smiling a lot since Minghao and Junhui had come over, and while Vernon had noticed it, it hadn’t been something he’d felt the need to comment on or ask about. 

“Minghao is just so in love with him.” Joshua said, his voice wistful, happy, and content. “I can’t read all of his thoughts--I can’t even read most of them, because they’re almost completely in Mandarin--but I don’t need to. There’s just this…  _ Feeling  _ he has when he looks at Junhui. Like, the tone of what he’s thinking. Junhui doesn’t even need to say anything. Junhui doesn’t even need to be looking back at him, he just has this affection for him.” 

“I know, right?!” Chan exclaimed excitedly, his eyes wide, though he definitely did not know; not to the extent that Joshua did, at least. “This is like… Serious, I think. They might never break up.”

“You really think so?” That seemed like a bit of an exaggeration to Vernon. “They’ve only been dating for what, four months?”

“But they talked to each other for a long time before that.” Chan pointed out. “They texted all the time, remember?”

“And you can’t hear what I’m hearing.” Joshua added. “I agree with Chan, I think. It doesn’t sound like when… Well, when you think someone is hot, or cute or something.” Joshua’s voice had gotten an embarrassed tinge to it, and it was another one of those moments for Vernon where he remembered that Joshua heard most everything that went on in his head when they were together, and that got him embarrassed too. “It’s definitely more serious than like… Infatuation, or something. They’re in love.”

Before Vernon could respond, there was the sound of the basement door opening and Junhui appeared at the top of the stairs. He and Minghao had their arms full of snacks, tiny single serve bags of chips piled up in their arms that Junhui began pelting at them as soon as they were in sight. Chan was the closest to the door, and since most of Junhui’s throws fell short, most of them fell on him. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed in protest, looking torn between shielding his face and gathering up some of the bags to hoard for himself. Vernon knew that thanks to his ability, Chan could easily catch the bags or hit them away if he wanted to, but he just let them land on him instead, and that was funnier. “I’ll eat all of these. You won’t get any.”

“We brought them so you could eat them.” Minghao told him, his voice a bit deadpan, making Joshua and Vernon laugh. 

“Yeah, well--” Chan was about to retort when another of Junhui’s throws hit him square in the face. “Stop! I’ll hit you where it hurts Junhui. Don’t think I won’t throw one of these at Minghao.” 

Junhui didn’t stop, so Chan did throw some of the bags of snacks at Minghao. Minghao dodged all of them easily, and once he’d reached the couch where Chan was sitting, dumped his entire pile of junk food on Chan’s head. All of them collapsed in laughter. 

“I’m hurt!” Chan cried indignantly, though he was not at all hurt. “Junhui! You’re going to let him do that to me?” Then, when Junhui didn’t say anything in Chan’s defense, too busy laughing, “I’ve known you longer than him!”

“But he loves me more than you.” Minghao said, his voice still deadpan, though there was a spark of mischief behind his eyes that made Vernon burst out laughing again. 

“Rude!” Chan swung out his fists in a punching motion, the action slow enough to easily dodge and weak enough to do absolutely nothing. Minghao played along though, dodging one of Chan’s arms but pretending to be struck back by the second one. He fell in what looked like extremely realistic slow motion, reaching an arm out behind himself to leverage his balance against the small table that he knew was behind him. It was the table that housed the pink light-up phone, a phone Vernon knew was too old to work and wasn’t plugged in, a phone Vernon was half convinced was actually just a toy. But the moment Minghao touched it, it began to ring. 

They all stared at it, dumbfounded. 

“That phone doesn’t work.” Chan said. He was still covered in bags of chips, his mouth slightly open, absolutely no conviction in his voice. “It’s never worked. It’s not even plugged in.” 

“...should we answer it?” Vernon finally asked. He was a little freaked out, but he also wanted to know who was on the other end of the line, the morbid curiosity causing him to reach his hand out. 

“Don’t.” Joshua said, grabbing his arm--his free arm, not the one he’d extended towards the phone--and digging his fingers in. 

“Why? What’s going to happen? It’s just an old phone.”

“Yeah, that’s ringing when it’s not supposed to.”

“It’s not stopping.” Junhui pointed out, Vernon realizing that he was right; the phone was still ringing. “Someone answer it.”

So Vernon reached out and picked up the receiver, bringing it to his ear.

“Hello?” 

The line was completely silent. Nothing; no busy tone, no dial tone. Vernon listened hard, hoping he would hear something, anything, maybe even the intensely creepy--but would make sense--breathing of someone across the line. He was listening so intently that when the phone finally made a loud click, it startled him so badly that he almost fell off the couch. Then the pink light around the base began to blink. 

“There was no one there.” He reported, placing the receiver back down.

“Is it supposed to do that?” Joshua asked, pointing to the flashing light. 

“It’s not even plugged into the wall.” Chan said again. He still looked dumbfounded. “It’s not supposed to do  _ anything.” _

“Maybe it’s flashing because it has a voicemail or something.” Junhui suggested. “Because we took so long to answer it?” 

“Does a phone like this even have voicemail?” Vernon asked back. He glanced at Minghao for some kind of input, some opinion on the situation, but Minghao was just standing there; he’d straightened up from his play-fight with Chan but his shoulders were slightly hunched inwards, his eyes wide, watching the phone’s blinking light. So Vernon reached back over to the phone and pressed the pound key, just to see what would happen.

A recording started, loud and instant, causing all of them to jump. There was the voice of a frantic woman, the sound of cars rushing past her in a way that seemed much too close to be safe at all. 

“Mr. Kwon!” She exclaimed. “Mr. Kwon, please! You don’t--” Another car roared past. “--could mean that! You might--” 

Whatever else she was going to say was cut off by a horrible, thick, thunking sort of sound, and she began to scream. The recording cut off, the phone falling silent and beginning to blink again. 

Joshua still hadn’t let go of Vernon’s arm, and in the following silence, Vernon was able to truly feel just how tightly Joshua was holding onto him. 

“Please don’t play it again.” He said. 

“I won’t.” Vernon promised. “I won’t.”

Without a reason or a power source, the phone continued to blink.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> additional warning for an extremely minor and completely off-screen character death (like...... EXTREMELY minor ok they're not really even a character they're more of a plot device) and explicit language

_**02** _

Kim Mingyu was about ready to lose his mind.

He liked being at Soonyoung’s house. Soonyoung’s house was where he’d started spending more time recently, now that he was out of school and wasn’t required to “stick to curfew” and “come home for dinner”. But being at Soonyoung’s house by choice in whatever clothes he wanted and being at Soonyoung’s house by requirement in a stuffy suit and shoes that were slowly squeezing his toes to death were two very different things, and Mingyu was desperate to leave. 

Mingyu liked being rich; he just hated all of the pomp and circumstance that came with it. He’d already done everything he needed to do at this luncheon: he’d come in, smiled, and walked quietly behind his father while the man showed him around to all the various politicians and fellow businessmen whose stuffiness made the entirety of the Kwon estate feel constricting. He’d mingled on his own, making flattering small talk with his father’s friends to uphold the connections he’d been born with, and toeing the line of how many hors d'oeuvres were too many. Then he’d found his friends, and they’d hidden themselves away into one of the back rooms of Soonyoung’s giant house. 

Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seungcheol had been Mingyu’s friends since they’d all been declared old enough to be dragged to events like this with their parents. They’d gravitated towards each other in a mutual desire to alleviate boredom and the absolute relief of seeing another person around their same age, instead of someone their parents’ age or even horrifyingly older. Growing up, they’d passed the time exploring whoever’s house the gathering--conference, meeting, brunch, whatever it was called when a bunch of old rich families got together to gossip about the economy and try to throw around their weight in politics without spilling their champagne glasses--was taking place in, seeing how much mischief they could get into before “mischief” turned into “trouble”. 

Soonyoung was the only one of the group that Mingyu had hung out with prior to meeting the others, and the only one that, for years, he would talk to outside of gatherings like these. But then the four of them had all bought their way into the same elite private school, and they had become genuine friends. 

And now they were tucked away, on what was probably their fifth game of pool but felt like their fiftieth. It didn’t help that, as with most games involving coordination, Mingyu wasn’t very good at pool, and was losing miserably in his one-on-one match against Seungkwan, much to Soonyoung’s amusement. He was also getting a little bit of a headache.

Soonyoung was on the other side of the table with Seungkwan, an arm around him, pretending to coach Seungkwan about what his next move should be. Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Mingyu had all gone together a couple of days ago to get their hair dyed brown at a salon Soonyoung frequented, Soonyoung and Seungkwan even sporting similar, round haircuts. They were both in nice outfits for the luncheon, Soonyoung wearing less piercings than usual in an attempt to look more professional, the two nearly the same height as they stood side by side. 

With all of their similarities, it was hard for Mingyu not to laugh at the complete difference in their expressions; Seungkwan’s eyes were wide, the roundness of them accentuated by the roundness of his cheeks. He was pretending to look surprised by whatever it was Soonyoung was whispering in his ear. Soonyoung was gesturing to the pool table as he spoke, but with the way his eyes had gone narrow, bright with their usual spark of mischief, his often pouty lips curled up at the ends into a dangerous grin, Mingyu thought that Soonyoung must be whispering about something else. 

Seungcheol stepped close to Mingyu and put a hand on his shoulder, Mingyu half expecting Seungcheol to attempt to emulate Soonyoung’s joke, or to give him some actual advice. While Seungcheol wasn’t good at pool either, he was often very good at advice. Well, good at giving advice. He didn’t usually follow any advice Mingyu tried to give him, but he historically wasn’t really a fan of Mingyu’s ideas; Seungcheol was their voice of reason, even if that reasoning could sometimes be incredibly boring. 

Seungcheol could be silly, but he was also good at playing it safe and looking traditional. He’d refused to come with them and dye his hair too, preferring it to stay its natural black, also looking very classic by being the only one of them in a fully black suit. The only thing about him that wasn’t picture-perfect for a wealthy businessman’s son was the sleepy droop to his eyelids, though Mingyu had a feeling some contribution to the expression was the permeating boredom they were all feeling. 

“What’s up?” Mingyu asked, when Seungcheol didn’t start speaking. Instead of getting an answer, Mingyu felt his headache disappear. 

He whirled on Seungcheol. “Give me my headache back.” 

Seungcheol’s face was impassive, simply raising his eyebrows a bit.

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Come on.” Mingyu could see it happening, the headache settling into Seungcheol’s body, a slight wince on his face, his jaw clenching a little. 

“I can’t. That’s not how it works.” Seungcheol said. “Just forget it, okay? You were already in a bit of a bad mood; I didn’t want anything to make it worse.” 

“Yeah, but that was  _ my _ headache.” Mingyu protested. 

“It’s not like you gave it to yourself on purpose!” Seungcheol protested back. 

_ “Come on, come on!”  _ The words were in badly accented English, Seungkwan flapping his hands in their direction as he said them. Seungkwan liked to occasionally say random English phrases, despite the fact that he’d done the worst of all of them when they’d taken English classes in school. “We shouldn’t fight about it. Mingyu, you know that Seungcheol was just trying to help you.”

Mingyu did know that. He also knew that Seungcheol knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t like this kind of help. 

“Getting angry won’t solve anything.” Soonyoung tacked on, and Mingyu sighed. Seungcheol was schooling the wince off of his face. Their friends were right, but that didn’t mean Mingyu had to like it. 

“Fine. Thanks.” He said begrudgingly. He just had to tell himself that hopefully, due to the nature of his ability--the power to heal someone by taking their pain or injury and putting it on his own body--Seungcheol had a relatively high pain tolerance. 

Once, when they were in middle school, Seungkwan had broken his arm. Despite being forbidden by his parents to visit him, Seungcheol had snuck out at night and climbed through Seungkwan’s bedroom window anyway, then took himself to the emergency room with his newly broken arm. Seungcheol’s parents had gotten a fun wake-up call from the ER, and Seungkwan didn’t find out about it until the next morning, when he got out of bed and found all the bones of his forearm to be in the right place. It wasn’t as though Mingyu had wanted to have a headache, or disliked Seungcheol’s ability; he just didn’t like the way Seungcheol used it so frivolously, and the obvious display of how little regard Seungcheol put into his own health and well-being. 

“I call playing winner!” Soonyoung declared as Mingyu bent to line up his next shot. 

“Why should I even bother, then?” Seungcheol asked. Soonyoung was the best pool player of the four of them; he would beat whoever won this round--Seungkwan, if Mingyu was being honest--and then he would beat Seungcheol, too. 

“I want to play, though.” Soonyoung said, a bit of a pout in his voice. “What if I play blindfolded? I could have Mingyu help me.”

“Hey, there’s a chance you could win like that.” Seungkwan told Seungcheol, Seungcheol laughing while shouting out an indignant protest. Mingyu wasn’t seeing any way that he could hit the cue ball that would be beneficial to him, resolving to just hit it in some general direction where it wouldn’t ricochet and sink itself into a pocket when a sound distracted him. 

Seungkwan heard the noise too. “Is that a phone ringing?” 

“That’s what it sounds like.” Seungcheol agreed. The noise was high pitched and shrill. “Where is it coming from?”

Mingyu turned to Soonyoung to ask--this was his house after all--and his question died in his throat when he saw the look on his friend’s face. Something was wrong.

“Soonyoung?” He asked hesitantly. He almost asked what was going on, what it was that Soonyoung knew, but before he’d even opened his mouth, Soonyoung was out the door without a word. The three of them followed. 

They ended up a ways down the hall, in front of a tiny closet. The closet was hidden by a folding door that very nearly blended into the wall. The ringing noise was much louder now that they were standing here, and Soonyoung reached forwards, pulling the door open. 

The sight both surprised and didn’t surprise Mingyu. Inside the closet was a white phone sitting on a little hardwood table. Mingyu had seen the phone before, had passed by this closet the first time he’d been to Soonyoung’s house and noticed that the door was cracked slightly open. But Mingyu had never heard it ring, and the phone--tucked away and small and looking like it would fit better in a diner from the eighties than in the sleek opulence of the Kwon estate--had been so insignificant that he’d only briefly wondered why it was there before forgetting it completely. It looked so anachronistic that Mingyu had just figured it was an antique, and that it was only held on to for sentiment. 

“I didn’t think that phone worked.” Mingyu said.

“It’s only ever rung once since I’ve been alive.” Soonyoung said. Mingyu couldn’t figure out why he looked so  _ scared.  _

“So?” 

“After it did, my grandmother died.”

“And? Aren’t grandmothers old?” Mingyu asked. Seungcheol punched him in the arm.

“Not at the time.” Soonyoung said. “I was really little.”

“That’s freaky.” Seungkwan’s eyes were wide. “Was she the one that answered the phone? Do we need to get out of here? Are we in danger?”

“It’s not… It’s not some weird death phone, or something.” Mingyu said, trying to calm him down. “I mean… Right? It’s not?” 

“I don’t know what it is.” Soonyoung answered. “It’s been in my family for years. It’s been in my family since before it was supposed to have been invented.”

“Okay, your parents definitely just made that up to scare you.” Seungcheol said. “They probably just didn’t want you to play with it.”

“Why is it still ringing?” Seungkwan asked. His voice didn’t sound any calmer; if anything, he sounded more frantic. “Why won’t it stop?”

“Someone needs to answer it, I guess.” Mingyu suggested. They all stood around, staring at each other. After a long moment Seungcheol heaved a heavy sigh, stepping up to pick up the receiver and put it to his ear. 

“Hello?” 

Next to Mingyu, Seungkwan wasn’t breathing. Seungcheol was silent for a long while, then hung up the phone. 

“No one was there.” He reported. “No one answered.”

“A prank call?” Mingyu asked. “On that old thing?”

“No.” Soonyoung put his finger in the “0” spot on the rotary, the gear clicking as he wound it back. When he released it, it swung into place with a click, then some audio began to play. 

It was a distraught man and a distraught woman, arguing back and forth in what sounded like the middle of a busy road. The woman was begging the man to get back into their car, and when she called him “Mr. Kwon”, all of them froze. 

There were some sounds of cars honking, a set of screeching wheels, and a deep “thud”. Mingyu didn’t need any more cues to realize what had happened, especially when the woman started to scream and cry. The voicemail didn’t end until emergency medical technicians started showing up, but the woman crying out “he’s dead!” didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

They were silent for a long time, Mingyu tempted to ask what the hell that was, but wondering if it would be too insensitive. 

“When she said Mr. Kwon--?” Seungcheol started. 

“That lady is my uncle’s secretary.” Soonyoung answered, before Seungcheol could finish. He sounded awful, soft and shaky and sick, and while his eyes were open--almost a little too wide--it was obvious by his expression that he wasn’t seeing anything. “That was her voice. The other voice was my uncle’s.” 

Mingyu stayed away from Soonyoung’s house for the next couple of days. After crashing their parents’ party to tell them about the voicemail, it took the center of everyone’s attention, and Mingyu wanted no part of it. He had a hard time getting past the idea that it was some horrifyingly sick joke, because he’d seen Soonyoung’s uncle and his secretary the day the voicemail had happened, had talked to them both at the party and pretended that Soonyoung hadn’t told him that they were secretly sleeping with each other. The voices and the car sounds and the screaming had all been very realistic, sure, but people could do anything with technology these days, and Mingyu couldn’t see why the other people in Soonyoung’s family didn’t understand that. 

Unlike him, all of Soonyoung’s family were treating the voicemail like a death sentence. Mr. Kwon, the man a politician, was trying desperately to set up who he wanted to plant in his place. Soonyoung told Mingyu about the various life insurance agents and notaries that their family was working with. Mingyu wanted to ask why this was being taken so seriously, being accepted so easily, and being worked on so hastily that the press had taken notice, but doing so felt uncalled for while Soonyoung’s uncle was getting his estate settled. 

Five days later, Mr. Kwon was killed in a hit-and-run on the highway. The press said that they were still trying to understand the circumstances behind the incident, and were looking for the driver that was responsible. They said that he had been killed on impact. 

When Mingyu heard the news, he was speechless. He didn’t even know what to do with himself after he found out, simply wandering his house, getting a phone call from Seungkwan about an hour later. 

“What should we do?” Seungkwan asked, before Mingyu had even finished saying hello. “Is Soonyoung okay? Should we go and talk to him?”

“He probably wants some space.” Mingyu said. Soonyoung and his uncle hadn’t been particularly close, but he was still family. And all of that aside, Soonyoung had heard the man die. That would be enough to disturb anyone; Mingyu himself was having a hard time processing the fact that what they’d heard was real. He couldn’t imagine how Soonyoung was feeling. He hadn’t even had the benefit of the doubt that Mingyu had been carrying, because Soonyoung had known from the start what the voicemail was, and had been able to do nothing but watch, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

A few hours later, Seungcheol called him. 

“Soonyoung’s mom said that he doesn’t want visitors.” He reported, confirming what Mingyu had assumed. “Or, that’s what she thinks, at least. He’s refusing to talk to them.”

“Did she want me to come over?” Mingyu asked, Seungcheol quiet for a moment as he considered the question.

“Maybe call in the next couple of days and check.” He said. “I’m not sure. I think the whole family wants a little distance from everything right now.”

So Mingyu waited, giving it a full two days before calling the Kwon estate. Soonyoung’s father answered, sounding grateful when he realized it was Mingyu on the other end of the line. 

“We would love for you to stop by.” He said. “See if you can get him to sit with us for a while, would you? I think that hearing the voicemail himself has made all of this very hard on him.”

“I’ll do my best.” Mingyu promised, getting dressed, climbing on his motorcycle, and riding over. Both of Soonyoung’s parents greeted him at the door, leading him through the house and updating him on their son at the same time. 

“He’s kept mostly to his room.” Mrs. Kwon said. “He growls when we try to come in, even if we’re giving him food; we haven’t seen him eat. He’s run around in the grounds a couple of times, and does walk around at night, but… We’re worried.”

“I’ll do the best I can.” Mingyu said again, as they came to a stop outside Soonyoung’s bedroom door. He gave the both of them the kind of smile given to a friend’s parents, then knocked on the door to Soonyoung’s room. 

As his parents had said, a deep growl rumbled through the wood. 

“It’s me.” Mingyu called out. “And you can be as mean as you want; I’m coming in anyway.” 

He did, careful to close the door behind him. The room was dim; the lights were off and the blinds were closed, but some daylight still slipped through the gaps where the windows weren’t completely covered. The room was a mess, blankets thrown off the bed, a chair and the bedside table both knocked over. In the back corner of the room, pacing across the back wall and watching Mingyu with narrow eyes, was a large tiger. 

“Hey, Soonyoung.” Mingyu said. 

A large majority of abilities were genetic in one way or another. Only one in every one thousand people presented some random ability that didn't emulate their parents' abilities, or weren't in the same vein. Soonyoung was in that minority. Less than five percent of the population had abilities that altered their physical appearance. Soonyoung was in that minority too.

Soonyoung turned his head away but continued to pace, his large paws silent as he crossed the wooden floor again and again. Mingyu took a step closer, and a quiet, warning growl came again from Soonyoung’s throat. 

“I’m here because your parents are worried.” Mingyu said, and Soonyoung’s ears flattened against his head. “They didn’t call me though, if you’re wondering. I called them. I’m worried too. We all are. It’s been what, three days now?” 

When Soonyoung transformed, every aspect of him transformed. Foods that were poisonous to cats were poisonous to him. Smells were stronger, and he could see in the dark. Human language meant absolutely nothing to him. Emotions were less complex. Much, much less complex, and Mingyu figured that was why he was hiding away now. 

Mingyu’s parents had become business partners with Soonyoung’s parents when Mingyu had started kindergarten. Soonyoung’s parents were distraught, and unable to control him; Soonyoung was an excitable, reactive kid with poor control over his transformations, and was becoming too big to simply scruff and carry around like they’d done when he was just a cub, with Soonyoung now able to use his claws and his teeth to be very destructive when upset. So Mingyu’s father had offered up Mingyu to help. 

Most of the people Mingyu encountered simply assumed that he had his father’s ability. The presumption made sense; the Kim family was well known for their ability of persuasion--to get someone to do something just by talking to them--the legacy of it having passed for years and years to every man in the Kim family. But Mingyu didn’t have that ability. He’d inherited his mother’s: he could talk to animals. 

Mingyu took another step closer and at that, Soonyoung stopped his pacing. He was staring Mingyu down, his amber eyes unblinking, but his lips weren’t raised and his ears were positioned forwards again, so Mingyu took another step. 

“All your parents want is for you to eat something. And I know that they want to talk to you--and that you don’t want to talk to them--” Mingyu tacked on the emendation quickly, because Soonyoung’s ears flattened against his skull again-- “So you should just come out with us. Seungkwan, Seungcheol, and I. Your mom and dad would be fine with that. We’ll get whatever food you want, and we’ll shop until the stores close. And I’ll pay, out of the goodness of my heart.” 

Though “goodness of my heart” had been, in large majority, a joke, but Mingyu also knew that he had the most money available to blow, and could probably cover whatever an unstable Soonyoung wanted to do to cope, from buying outlandish designer clothes to bribing away speeding tickets to paying for bail for the four of them, if need be. His parents were the most used to outlandish antics, so he would be in the least trouble for spending, and his family did have the most money; Soonyoung and Seungcheol were all old money, Seungkwan was new money, and Mingyu was both. 

Soonyoung still hadn’t broken eye contact but he’d calmed down, and slowly relaxed into a sitting position, the dark stripes across his shoulders seeming to ripple in the dim lighting. Reaching out, Mingyu placed a hand on his friend’s head. 

Mingyu couldn’t say that he wasn’t afraid of Soonyoung. He didn’t think that Soonyoung would ever intentionally hurt him, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened, or that it wouldn’t happen again. Mingyu had a long, thin scar down the front of his right thigh from a wrestling match that had gotten a little too rough when they were kids, an injury that had taken weeks to heal and the marks of which would never go away. He traced the line of where it would be over his pant leg with his right hand, scratching Soonyoung behind the ear with his left. 

“We all want to hang out with you.” He said. “Let’s eat some good food and have some fun, yeah?” 

Soonyoung raised himself back up to standing to push his forehead into Mingyu’s thigh, Mingyu laughing and bending to ruffle the hair on both sides of his neck. Soonyoung’s form began to shrink, going from orange and black to pink, and before Mingyu could really react, he had a naked Soonyoung sitting on the floor next to him. 

“You couldn’t have warned me?” Mingyu squawked, jumping away. Soonyoung laughed, and while the laugh wasn’t as bright as usual, Mingyu was glad to hear it all the same. While Soonyoung got dressed Mingyu busied himself with straightening up a bit, righting the upturned furniture and stripping the sheets on Soonyoung’s bed so they could more easily be taken away and washed. 

Soonyoung’s parents were sitting in the living room, one on each end of the couch, very obviously waiting for their human-shaped son to come sit between them and have a long, serious conversation. Soonyoung passed by them with no more than a glance, and Mingyu walked over to them instead, keeping his voice low as he spoke. 

“He just isn’t ready to talk about it yet.” He told them. “I said that we could round up the group, go out for food, and go shopping. I said he wouldn’t have to talk about it yet; that was the only way I could get him to transform back.”

They weren’t happy, and Mingyu knew that they wouldn’t be, so he made a couple of promises he couldn’t keep. 

“He’ll talk to you tomorrow, when he gets home, alright? I’ll take him to my house if he wants to stay the night, but he’ll be back to you guys tomorrow.”

Mingyu had no way of actually making Soonyoung do any of that, and did not plan on even telling Soonyoung that he’d made these promises, but it made both his parents relax a bit. He also knew that they liked the fact that Mingyu would be around Soonyoung, so he wouldn’t get tranquilized and sent to the zoo if he still wasn’t feeling himself and something got out of hand. Soonyoung’s mother put a hand on his cheek and thanked him before pulling away, and Mingyu followed Soonyoung out the door. 

“My mom loves you.” Soonyoung told him as they entered the garage to retrieve their bikes. 

“Don’t take it personally. All moms love me.”

“Too bad you don’t like them back.”

“Shut up.” Mingyu reached over and flicked one of Soonyoung’s dangling earrings so it swung around and hit him in the cheek. “I--I’m sure some moms are fine.”

“Oh? Who’s mom do you think is fine?” Soonyoung had a small, teasing grin on his face. Mingyu didn’t answer--mostly because he didn’t know  _ what  _ to say--and Soonyoung gave him a look. “Oh, Seungcheol is gonna kill you.”

“Hey! I don’t like Seungcheol’s mom!” Mingyu protested, unable to sound convincing with how he’d begun to laugh. 

“Why? What’s wrong with her?” 

Before Mingyu could say or do anything else, Soonyoung swung his leg over his bike and slid his helmet on. Mingyu simply flipped him off instead, making sure he was visible in Soonyoung’s side mirror as Soonyoung started up his bike and drove away. They hadn’t talked about who they were picking up first so Mingyu just followed Soonyoung, ending up at Seungkwan’s house. While Soonyoung went to drag him out, Mingyu called Seungcheol.

“We’re going out tonight.” He said as soon as the ringing stopped. “Get ready.”

“Now?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How is he?” Seungcheol asked, his voice a little quieter. 

“He’s acted okay in front of me so far, but he hasn’t eaten in a couple days.”

Seungcheol was quiet for a moment, as though mulling that over, his voice coming out as a sigh. 

“Alright. Are we meeting somewhere, or…?”

“We’ll come pick you up.” Soonyoung was returning, Seungkwan in tow, so he hastened to end the call. “See you in ten.” 

He slid his phone back into his pocket as the two approached, grabbing his helmet.

“Hey,” he complained to Seungkwan, “can’t you at least dress like you own a motorcycle?” 

Seungkwan, in his yellow shirt, jean jacket, and pastel pink pants, puffed his cheeks out in protest. 

“He didn’t give me any time to change!” He exclaimed, pointing at Soonyoung. His voice went down to a grumble. “It’s not like I’m going to have lunch with my grandmother in leather pants.” 

“You don’t own leather pants.” Mingyu corrected. “Let’s fix that tonight. We’re going to go shopping.” 

The shopping didn’t happen until long after the sun had gone down; they swung by Seungcheol’s house first, then spent a couple of hours eating. Shopping was spending too much money on things Mingyu knew he would only wear one or two times, but if it was a piece of clothing that made Soonyoung laugh, he would pull out his credit card. 

Mingyu knew that Soonyoung could tell they were coddling him, with Seungkwan trying harder to get him to engage in jokes, Seungcheol throwing an arm over his shoulder more often than usual, Mingyu indulging him in anything he wanted. He didn’t comment on it though, and Mingyu was glad to see what he was beginning to unwind a little, looking less tense, less upset, more relaxed and more inclined to smile. 

It felt like an accomplishment, seeing Soonyoung smile, Mingyu desperate for it to happen more and more. He was in the middle of trying to get it to happen again by attempting an--admittedly, dangerous--trick on his bike when he was stopped by a police officer and given a ticket. Then they dared Seungcheol to also get himself a ticket, to break his record of two driving offences and bump it up to three. He managed it, and then all eyes turned to Seungkwan. 

“I’ll pay for the fee.” Mingyu promised. “Come on, just a speeding ticket or something.”

“But I don’t like going that fast.”

“Well, I would say to just leave your bike parked somewhere it’s not supposed to be, but it’s too cold to stand here all night.” 

Despite looking unsure, Seungkwan revved the engine of his motorcycle. They were already on a long straight street; all Seungkwan had to do was make it to a questionable speed by the time he reached the police station five blocks down the road. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” Mingyu offered. Seungkwan didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no either, so Mingyu got up on his bike too, starting it. “How about this: just race me, okay?” 

Then Mingyu stuck his tongue out at Seungkwan, slid on his helmet, and started off. He knew Seungkwan, and knew that Seungkwan was competitive enough for the bait to work; sure enough, it didn’t take long for Seungkwan to catch up with him. Mingyu was counting down the blocks to the police station, letting Seungkwan pull ahead little by little. 

Four blocks, three blocks, two blocks away. Mingyu wasn’t worried about how fast they were going; it was closer to early in the morning than late at night, and the streets were empty of cars and people, with the four of them the only things out and making a ruckus. They had one tiny intersection to go and Seungkwan was going at least seventy in a thirty-five, so while Seungkwan kept speeding up, Mingyu started to slow down. 

Then a man appeared in front of Seungkwan on the street. If he’d been anywhere but in the direct path of Seungkwan’s bike, Mingyu knew he wouldn’t have seen him; he was very thin and wearing all black with black hair to match, all of that darkness nearly blending him in with the asphalt, despite how pale his skin was. He was tall though, his shoulders hunched, his eyes wide in Seungkwan’s headlights. 

He’d materialized so suddenly and so close to Seungkwan that Mingyu was sure Seungkwan was going to hit him, sure that there was about to be a causality--but Seungkwan swerved, jerking his bike as hard as he could to the left. The motorcycle overbalanced and fell to the side, Seungkwan falling off and rolling as the motorcycle was carried down the street by its momentum, spinning wildly in a whirlwind of screeching metal. 

The man that had shown up in the street was gone as suddenly as he’d arrived, but Mingyu didn’t even have time to ponder that as he took the left Seungkwan had taken and was met with the sight of a group of people halfway across the street. Seungkwan’s motorcycle was coming at them fast, and while it was loud, Mingyu doubted the sound would be enough to give them the warning needed to get out of the way. Then the one leading the pack suddenly stopped walking, stumbling and falling to one knee, the motorcycle sliding past inches from where the man’s next step would have been. It crashed into a group of trash cans ten feet down the road and collided with a light pole, finally shuddering to a stop, and everything was still. 

Mingyu’s bike had barely stopped before he’d jumped off, running to Seungkwan. Seungkwan was lying on the ground, his helmet banged up, his palms scraped and bleeding, trying to sit up. Mingyu helped him, unable to stop how quickly the questions were coming out of his mouth.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where--” He helped Seungkwan get his helmet off; he could hear that Seungkwan was saying something, but couldn’t make out the words. “What?” 

“Did I hit him? Is he okay?”

“He’s gone, Seungkwan. He disappeared.”

Seungkwan was leaning very heavily against the arm Mingyu was holding him up with, Mingyu hearing loud footsteps coming up behind them. A voice he recognized as Seungcheol’s shouted out Seungkwan’s name, colliding with another yell. 

“What the fuck?!” 

In his concern for Seungkwan, Mingyu had almost forgotten about the group of people down the street that had very nearly been taken out by Seungkwan’s--now destroyed--motorcycle. That yell was a voice he would recognize anywhere. 

The man that had been walking in front was still down on his knees, looking almost unable to stand up, with two of his companions crouched next to him. The three of them were in shadow due to the placement of the streetlights, but their silhouettes were familiar. Mingyu already knew who they had to be. The fourth and final person in the group was on his feet, his hands balled into fists, staring Mingyu down. It was Lee Jihoon. 

“You almost hit Seokmin! Are you people actually trying to kill us?” 

Jihoon was almost directly under the streetlight, swathed in warm yellow. His hair was dark and neat, off his forehead and out of his face. He wasn’t tall, but looked even smaller than usual thanks to the oversized jean jacket he had on. 

“It was an accident.” Seungkwan managed out, too quiet for Jihoon to hear. Soonyoung was on Seungkwan’s other side, and together he and Mingyu pulled Seungkwan to his feet. 

“Are you okay?” Soonyoung asked, and the nod Seungkwan gave back wasn’t at all convincing.

“Are you guys okay?” Seungcheol called out to the others. The three kneeling got to their feet, Mingyu able to recognize them under the streetlights as Lee Seokmin, Yoon Jeonghan, and Jeon Wonwoo. Wonwoo turned to them.

“Yes.” He answered. He didn’t seem very angry or very surprised, but his face was usually impassive; it was by his clenched fists and slightly hunched shoulders that Mingyu could tell he was shaken. Jihoon was quick on his heels.

“No thanks to you.” 

Jihoon was staring him down, like he somehow knew that the stupid decision for Seungkwan to speed down the street had been Mingyu’s idea. He was right, but still. Part of Mingyu was indignant, part of Mingyu was glad that Jihoon wasn’t aiming his anger at Seungkwan, who had tears in his down his cheeks and was swaying on his feet, and part of Mingyu felt breathless by the spark in Jihoon’s eyes, and how it was so fully directed at him. 

“I’m sure it was an accident.” Jeonghan said in his usual placating tone. His hands were still on Seokmin’s shoulders and his eyes were on Jihoon, the wariness in them telling Mingyu that Jihoon wasn’t going to calm down any time soon. 

“It wouldn’t matter if it was an accident or not if any of us had gotten hurt. If any of us had died.” 

Jihoon accusing Seungkwan of killing someone, of killing anyone, got Mingyu bristling and he passed Seungkwan fully off to Soonyoung, taking a step forward. The moment Mingyu got closer Jihoon glanced away, breaking the eye contact, and all of a sudden Mingyu needed Jihoon to look at him again, the feeling persistent like an itch under his skin.

“But it would be different if this was the other way around, I’m sure. You wouldn’t mind so much. You were happy last year, weren’t you? When your attack dog put me in the hospital?”

Absolute silence followed those words. Wonwoo, who had turned to look over Seokmin, completely stopped at what Mingyu said. His fingers uncurled, but there was a tremor to them. 

“Mingyu.” Jeonghan’s voice was low in warning, but Mingyu wasn’t listening. Jihoon’s eyes had snapped back to his, and his expression was murderous. The spark in his eyes was an absolute fire now, his jaw working, his body trembling. He looked ready to kill. Mingyu wanted him to see him try. 

“I‘d just think you wouldn’t want to add another funeral to your already busy schedule.” Jihoon spat.

Anger flared in Mingyu’s chest at the mention of Soonyoung’s uncle, taking another step forward, ready to--to do what he didn’t know, but do  _ something-- _ when a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“It was just an accident, and we are very sorry.” Seungcheol’s voice was steady, calm and authoritative. “We aren’t having a good night, and we just really need to take him home.”

At those words, Mingyu glanced back at his friends. Soonyoung was still holding Seungkwan, but his cheeks had gone red and his eyes were wide. Seungkwan still looked horribly shaken, and though his hands were bloody, the scrapes were gone. Mingyu knew what that must mean, glancing at Seungcheol. Sure enough, his hands were bleeding openly, and the heat in Mingyu’s chest was fading, feeling selfish at being so distracted by Jihoon when his friends were all in such bad shape. 

“Let’s go.” He said, turning back to pick his bike up. “Seungkwan, you can ride with me. I’ll take you home.” 

Soonyoung helped him up on Mingyu’s motorcycle, Mingyu pulling Seungkwan’s arms tight around his waist. He knew Seungkwan was staining his shirt with blood but he didn’t care, wanting Seungkwan’s fingers to twist in tight and not let go until they came to a stop inside the main entrance of the Boo estate. 

Once they’d made it there, Seungkwan pressed his face into Mingyu’s back, holding on tight and taking a few deep breaths before drawing away. Mingyu heard his distress loud and clear, helping Seungkwan down then getting down himself, guilt tugging at his chest as he pulled his friend into a hug. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. He was sorry. He was sorry for being so bullheaded, talking Seungkwan into something he didn’t want to do. He was sorry that he’d been so distracted, his attention so easily stolen by Jihoon, so easily held by Jihoon. He tried to tell himself that it was because it had been a while since he’d seen Jihoon, but he knew that wasn’t it; Jihoon had always been able to do this to him. It was something he couldn’t explain, something he hadn’t needed to understand back when they were still friends, and now that they weren’t friends anymore, he’d given up trying. 

Mingyu could feel Seungkwan shaking, knowing his friend was crying again, but able to tell by his heaving chest and deep breaths that it was more from relief than from fear. He held Seungkwan tighter, rubbing his back. 

“It’s okay.” He said. “You’re okay. They’re okay. All of us are going to be okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i DO support the horanghae agenda thank you for asking


	3. Chapter 3

_**03** _

By Jeonghan’s estimation, it took Seokmin roughly thirty minutes to realize he’d almost died. 

In an attempt to calm Jihoon down, Jeonghan had taken the group on an unnecessarily long wander around the neighborhood under the guise of wanting to buy snacks. In an effort not to touch Wonwoo but not be obvious about it, Jeonghan had wrapped a casual arm around Seokmin’s waist and used him to help lead the way. All of this culminated into Seokmin coming to a halt, his eyes going wide, then very nearly dragging Jeonghan onto the ground with him as his knees all but gave out. 

“Woah, woah.” Stumbling, Jeonghan guided Seokmin into a sitting position in the grass. Seokmin’s eyes, easily widened by excitement, were now the widest Jeonghan had ever seen them. He’d drawn his lips together, his cheeks slightly sucked in by the motion, and along with his high cheekbones and thin nose, he looked like a perfect picture of alarm. “You okay? What’s going on?” 

“That… That almost killed me.” 

“Yeah.”

“I almost died.”

“Yeah.”

“I would have died.” 

Jeonghan stopped responding, realizing Seokmin either wasn’t listening or couldn’t hear him. He glanced around to Wonwoo and Jihoon, but Wonwoo looked about as lost as Jeonghan felt, and all Jihoon offered back was a shrug. So they simply sat down with Seokmin, letting him babble, Jeonghan rubbing his back and Jihoon resting a hand on his knee. Jeonghan was upset to see Jihoon’s expression going dark again, his narrow eyes narrowing further. Jeonghan glanced over at Wonwoo, the shared look coming to a silent agreement that once they got Seokmin somewhere safe--his own home, or Wonwoo’s house, or Jihoon’s apartment--they would try as hard as they could to leave Jihoon with him. Angry Jihoon wasn’t fun to be around, and Jeonghan felt that he’d weathered it long enough to justify slipping away soon. 

“Hey, hey, hold on.” It took Jeonghan a moment to realize that Seokmin was talking to him. “All I saw was right before, and a little while after. I thought I’d blacked out, but… That was you, wasn’t it?”

Jeonghan had been hoping that Seokmin had thought he’d blacked out. But he couldn’t lie to a Seokmin that looked this fragile.

“Yes, that was me.” 

“Why would you do that?”

Jeonghan was born with the ability to control the amount of light a person could see. He most commonly used it if one of his friends had a headache, making the room dim for them to keep overhead lights or the sun from being too painful. On a couple of occasions though, he’d used it to block all light, rendering the affected person completely blind until he let up on them. He’d done that to Seokmin tonight.

“I had to think of a way to make you stop walking.” Jeonghan told him. “I didn’t really think it would work, but I’m glad that it did.” 

He hadn’t thought it would work at all. But he’d rather have Wonwoo’s laughing face be the last thing Seokmin saw than the spinning wreckage of a crashed motorcycle hurtling in their direction, so he’d done it anyway. Seokmin losing his balance and falling to his knees had been a fortunate side effect. He didn’t say that, though. 

“Fast thinking.” Jihoon commended, patting Seokmin on the knee again. Wonwoo looked down at his lap, his legs crossed and drawn up, his hands around them.

“I should have been faster.” He said, his voice low. “I should have done something.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jihoon’s voice was a bit abrasive now, a bit louder in his indignation. “That bike was easily going eighty miles an hour. You have super strength, not speed. Don’t be stupid.” 

The words didn’t do anything for the expression on Wonwoo’s face, and Jeonghan could see very clearly how the rest of the night was going to go. No harm in starting it now. Heaving a sigh, he got to his feet and extended a hand to Seokmin.

“Are you okay to stand up?” He asked. After a nod, Seokmin was standing next to him, Jihoon and Wonwoo getting up too. 

They ended up going to Wonwoo’s house, because nobody was really thinking about where they wanted to go, and when that happened they usually ended up at Wonwoo’s house. Seokmin collapsed onto the couch cushions like a man that had just run a marathon, Jihoon sitting down next to him. It was well after three in the morning but all of them still felt wired from what had happened and Jeonghan didn’t even bother sitting down, getting a drink from Wonwoo’s fridge instead and watching Wonwoo retreat into his room. 

Sitting still had Seokmin’s eyes going wide all over again, Jeonghan approaching Jihoon with a proposition. 

“See if you can distract him, would you?” He asked. “Just help him think about something else. It looks like if he dwells for too long on what happened he’s going to freak out again.”

Jihoon nodded a bit in understanding. He turned to Seokmin, having to touch his thigh to get his attention. 

“Do you want me to try and help?” He asked, and after a moment of consideration, Seokmin nodded. It was still a little strange to see Jihoon ask permission to use his ability, but it was definitely a positive development, so Jeonghan didn’t say anything. “What is it you want to think about? Anything specific?”

Jihoon could project thoughts into other people’s heads. It had been a fun ability to play with back in school, Jeonghan and Jihoon coming up with fun ways for Jihoon to use it to prank their friends. Looking back on some of the things they’d done made Jeonghan feel incredibly irresponsible; not for any of the projected ideas, that had all been innocent enough, but for the blatant disrespect for privacy and lack of consent. He tried to tell himself that they’d been immature back then, and that they knew better now. He wasn’t sure that Jihoon was ever going to give himself that same understanding and forgiveness, and Jihoon rarely ever used his ability anymore. 

Wonwoo was back, now in athletic clothes and tennis shoes with a bag slung over his shoulder. That was what Jeonghan had been waiting for, setting his drink on the counter and moving to follow Wonwoo out the door. 

“You guys are going to the gym?” Jihoon asked in surprise. “Now?”

“Look after him, would you?” Jeonghan asked back, nodding to Seokmin. Seokmin was sitting forwards on the couch, his eyes closed, worry lines creasing his forehead. “Call if you need anything, okay?” 

Jihoon didn’t give a response but Jeonghan wasn’t waiting for one, leaving after Wonwoo and shutting the door behind him. 

The gym was close enough to walk, and the entire journey there was silent. Jeonghan didn’t say anything as Wonwoo began to stretch, gravitating towards the punching bags, and Wonwoo didn’t say anything as Jeonghan picked out a spot on the floor, sitting down and leaning against the wall. Jeonghan gave him a couple of rounds with the punching bag before speaking up. 

“Don’t beat yourself up for not trying to jump in front of a ricocheting motorcycle.” 

Wonwoo hit the punching bag twice, one dull “thud” with each fist. 

“I’m not.” He said. 

“Because I didn’t actually mean to save Seokmin. I’m glad I did, but… I just didn’t want that to be the last thing he saw. I didn’t want fear to be the last thing he felt.” Wonwoo didn’t answer, but he still had his arms lowered, so Jeonghan knew he was listening. “Don’t… Don’t tell Seokmin that.”

“I won’t.”

Jeonghan hoped Wonwoo might say more, that breaking the silence might get him talking, but he went back to hitting the punching bag instead, and Jeonghan let out a sigh. He hadn’t thought getting Wonwoo to talk would be this hard. He hadn’t prepared for this. He stretched his arms up over his head. 

“So it’s just the same thing it always is, then?”

No answer. So he said something he knew would get a reaction. 

“Is it because of what Mingyu said?” 

Three more punches. The slap of Wonwoo’s knuckles against the leather echoed loudly through the empty room, the punching bag swinging so violently with the last hit that Jeonghan was worried the chain might snap. 

“I’m not an attack dog.” Wonwoo said, and Jeonghan looked at him for a moment. He’d already worked up a sweat, a sheen down his arms and across the back of his neck, his head bowed. He was striking with his dark outfit, dark hair, and wrapped knuckles, his arms and legs both long and lean, his eyes and nose and jawline all very sharp. The juxtaposition between Wonwoo’s complexion and his disposition was almost too much for Jeonghan sometimes.

“Of course you’re not. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I did though. I hurt him.”

“You still wouldn’t hurt a fly. A fly is an innocent creature that has never knowingly done anything to anybody. Mingyu is an asshole.” 

The joke didn’t make Wonwoo laugh, but some of the tension left his shoulders, so Jeonghan considered it a success. The bag was still swinging, Wonwoo reaching out to grab it, holding it on each side. 

“I just… I’m supposed to be able to control it. I thought I could control it.”

“Hey, he’s not dead right? When it comes to Mingyu, I call that control.”

“Jeonghan.” Wonwoo’s voice was flat, and Jeonghan heaved a sigh that left him slumped against the wall. He’d thought that getting Wonwoo to talk would help, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t have to be such a serious conversation. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just… It’s been months. You have to at least start forgiving yourself. You can’t hang onto this forever.” 

Seven months ago, Mingyu and Jihoon had really gotten into it. They’d caught each other in bad moods, breaking from the usual sharp words and cold looks into raised voices and violent gestures. It was hard to watch, and nothing anyone said helped. They looked ready to jump each other, and very well may have if Wonwoo hadn’t acted first, moving to step between them. 

Maybe it was because Wonwoo had moved so quickly, or because he simply wasn’t Jihoon, but Mingyu swung a fist at him. Wonwoo had stumbled backwards, very nearly knocking Jihoon down, and swung back. His fist connected with Mingyu’s jaw with a ringing snap, Mingyu’s head whipping to the side, his eyelids fluttering closed, and he hit the ground hard. They hadn’t been able to wake him up just by shouting at him, and nobody wanted to try jostling him, so after a couple minutes of general panic, Seungcheol had called an ambulance. 

“I thought that I’d broken his neck.” Wonwoo said. “Seeing him on the ground like that… I thought that I’d killed him.” 

“But you didn’t.” Jeonghan said softly. “You didn’t, Wonwoo.” 

It had been a very near thing. They’d been told that with the speed of the torsion extorted on Mingyu’s neck, it was very lucky that nothing had been snapped, lucky that he wasn’t paralyzed or worse, lucky that all that had happened was a broken jaw. A very broken jaw that needed to be surgically wired closed, but still. 

“My control has just gotten worse, after that happened. I keep accidentally breaking things at home. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Jeonghan had noticed that, had seen broken silverware in Wonwoo’s kitchen trash can a few days ago. There were a couple new spiderweb cracks in the glass of Wonwoo’s phone screen. He hadn’t said anything, knowing Wonwoo didn’t want Jihoon and Seokmin to notice.

“Maybe get some help? Like… Professional help?” That suggestion had the muscles in Wonwoo’s jaw working, and he swung another punch at the punching bag, so Jeonghan continued, trying to empathize. “I… I can understand why this is so scary. I don’t know what I would do if I, I don’t know, accidentally blinded someone, but Wonwoo--just because I know what’s going on with you doesn’t mean I know how to help.” 

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo said, after a long stretch of silence. “I shouldn’t--”

Jeonghan had heard this one before, Wonwoo’s apology for dumping his problems on Jeonghan, and he waved it away. 

“It’s fine. It’s my fault; I always make other people’s business my business. I would have pestered you about it until you told me anyway.” 

Pestering. Jeonghan was good at pestering, getting to his feet. He slipped his phone into his back pocket, walking up to Wonwoo. Wonwoo looked at him questioningly, that expression only getting more confused when Jeonghan put a finger on Wonwoo’s chest, directing him a couple of steps backwards. Wonwoo complied anyway, and once Jeonghan was standing in front of the punching bag he spread his arms wide. 

“You should hit me.” He said. Wonwoo’s face went from confused to startled. When Wonwoo didn’t move, Jeonghan spoke again. “I’m serious.”

“Jeonghan, no.” Wonwoo moved as though to push Jeonghan out of the way, but aborted the motion once he’d made it about one foot away from touching him. 

“Why not? That punching bag isn’t going to tell you how hard is too hard, but I can. So hit me.” 

“No.” Wonwoo wasn’t looking at him; was actively refusing to look at him. 

“Wonwoo--”

“Jeonghan, stop. I’m not going to be someone that sends you to the hospital.”

“So just don’t send me to the hospital.” That made Wonwoo look up, and Jeonghan gestured for him to go ahead, bending his fingers at the knuckles. “Maybe you don’t have to punch me, okay? Just… Tap me, or something. Hit me. Come on.” 

“I…” The fear in Wonwoo’s eyes made it obvious that he probably wasn’t even going to touch Jeonghan, so he tried harder. 

“Hit me. Hit me. Hit me.” He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, letting his hands flop as he did. “I’m not going to stop until you do. You’ve been training for this, right? It’s what the punching bag is for. So hit me.” Pestering. Being annoying, and hoping it would work. If Wonwoo hit him and it didn’t hurt, that could be the first step towards moving past this. The first step towards Wonwoo not being so afraid. 

Jeonghan really hoped it wouldn’t hurt. 

He took a step towards Wonwoo. Wonwoo took a step back. But he was raising his arms from where they’d been hanging at his sides, his hands up by his chest now, so Jeonghan kept going. 

“Would it help if I hit you first?” He extended his arms, giving the air in front of Wonwoo a couple of swings, continuing to walk forwards. He just needed to push a little more, get Wonwoo genuinely annoyed. “Come on, Wonwoo. Hit me. Hit me, hit me, hit--”

Wonwoo’s body jostled slightly as the heels of his feet hit the wall behind him, Jeonghan realizing that he’d backed Wonwoo all the way across the room. So he stopped, leaving his arms spread, and waited. 

Wonwoo was looking at him now, his eyes having not left Jeonghan’s since he’d looked up. His gaze was sharp, Jeonghan not realizing until it was too late that it wasn’t annoyance there. It was contempt, and it was fear, and it was all directed inwards. Wonwoo dropped his arms, an awful sink in Jeonghan’s stomach telling him that he’d pushed too hard. Then Wonwoo began to cry. 

Jeonghan closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around his friend, feeling Wonwoo’s wet face press into his neck, hearing a soft “I can’t,” murmured against his skin. He squeezed tighter, holding on until Wonwoo’s breath went from short gasps to slower, steadier exhales, letting Wonwoo soak the shoulder of his shirt. Wonwoo reached up once, twice, the motion stuttering to a stop both times, never fully reaching his arms up to hug Jeonghan back. 

  
  


It was closer to five when Jeonghan left the gym. Wonwoo had stayed behind, saying he wanted to shower and change before walking back home and saying Jeonghan should go ahead and leave. Jeonghan considered waiting for him, but he got the feeling that Wonwoo wanted to be alone for a while, and he knew he’d already overstepped, so he bid Wonwoo a good night and left. 

On his way, he pulled his phone out and texted Jihoon. 

_You still up? How is Seokmin?_

With it being almost five in the morning, Jeonghan didn’t really expect Jihoon to respond. He got a text back almost immediately. 

_He’s ok. He’s asleep._

With the text came a picture. Seokmin was sprawled rather unceremoniously across Wonwoo’s living room couch, his mouth slightly open, his brown hair splayed out over his forehead in an unflattering middle part. One arm was across his stomach, the other dangling to the ground, and his legs were taking up all of the rest of the couch and then some. Jeonghan was grateful to see that despite how uncomfortable the position looked, Seokmin’s body was relaxed and his face had gone slack, no worry anywhere. He saved the photo quickly, wanting to use it as teasing material when the events of tonight weren’t so sharp anymore.

_Someone looks comfy. Thanks, Jihoon._

Jihoon’s contact name was the longest contact name Jeonghan had in his phone. He liked to let his friends enter the name themselves when they put in the number, calling them whatever it was they wanted to be called. Usually, they used the moment as an excuse to be silly, and he could tease them about it later. When Jeonghan had gotten Jihoon’s number, he’d offered over his phone and told him to enter the name himself. As expected, Jihoon had typed in the three characters that made up his name and gave it back. 

Then all of Jeonghan’s friends at the time had found out, shaming Jihoon for being boring, Jeonghan’s phone stolen from his hands and passed around. Seokmin added “The Composer” to the end and put in a music note emoji, leading each friend to put their own emoji as well. Along with the music note there was a laughing emoji, a flexed bicep emoji, a microphone emoji, a bowl of rice, a cat, and a yellow heart. That had been years ago, but Jeonghan didn’t have it in himself to change it.

Jeonghan decided to call him. Like with the text message, Jihoon answered immediately. 

“Hey.” His voice was hushed. 

“Was it hard to coax him to sleep?”

“No. Once I got him to lay down, he was out pretty soon after the two of you left. I think coming down from what happened really exhausted him.” 

“You could also crash on the couch. Wonwoo wouldn’t mind. Even Seokmin wouldn’t mind. Why are you still awake?”

“The same reason you are, probably.” 

“You had an exhausting heart-to-heart with Wonwoo over a punching bag and really want to take a shower?” 

“...fine, not the same reason. I just want to go home, I think.”

“Then come outside.” Jeonghan had reached Wonwoo’s front door. “I’ll walk with you.” 

It took Jihoon a few minutes to do so, opening the door just a bit at first, but stepping out fully when he saw Jeonghan and closing it behind him. Jeonghan glanced down at him as they started out, unable not to notice tension in Jihoon’s shoulders, as well as what seemed to be a fixed crease between Jihoon’s eyebrows. 

“He has everyone stressed out tonight, huh.”

Jihoon glanced up at him. “Who? Seokmin?”

“Mingyu.” 

Mingyu’s name had Jihoon directing his gaze back at his feet. Jeonghan wasn’t willing to go through another teeth-pulling attempt at conversation, planning on letting it slide, but thankfully Jihoon spoke. 

“I just… I just get so mad at him. He’s so inconsiderate.” 

Jihoon’s choice of words caused a breath of laughter that Jeonghan didn’t mean to let loose. 

“That’s one way to put it, I guess.” 

“I can’t believe that’s how he thinks of me. That it’s how he actually feels. That I was _happy_ about what happened to him.” 

“He talks big. We both know that.” Jeonghan knew that Jihoon wouldn’t be speaking this candidly if he had even slightly more sleep in him, but they’d all been up all night. “Besides… He doesn’t know how you reacted when he was in the hospital. He was unconscious while you were there, and you didn’t visit after his surgery.”

Jihoon was silent for so long that Jeonghan figured the conversation had been dropped. Then, almost too quietly for Jeonghan to hear, 

“He wouldn’t have wanted to see me.” 

“Speaking of being inconsiderate, though,” Jeonghan raised his voice and put a large exhale in it, wanting to show that while serious, his next words weren’t seriously chastising. “You know that Soonyoung heard what you said, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know.” Jihoon answered after a moment. “I mean, they already hate me--”

“They don’t hate you.”

“Mingyu hates me enough for the four of them.” Jeonghan didn’t try to dispute that. It probably wouldn’t go well. “But I was already going to send a bouquet to the funeral. Maybe I’ll just, I don’t know, send two. I haven’t really thought about it yet.” 

“Are you actually going to sign it this time?”

Jihoon shrugged. “I might.” He said. “Maybe not my name, but… ‘From one captain to another’, or something like that. An old inside joke; something he would know.”

Jeonghan nodded a bit--the idea was a good one, he thought--and they reached the road that led to Jihoon’s apartment, the two of them parting ways. Jeonghan pulled out his phone again, wanting to send one more text message; one he genuinely wasn’t expecting a response to thanks to the time, the contact name of the recipient just five red heart emojis. 

_I’m sorry that you’re not having a good night. Thinking of you._

The response, too, was almost immediate.

_Can I come over?_

Jeonghan couldn’t help the smile on his face. 

_Always, but take your time. I’m not home yet. I’m on my way._

When he got to his little apartment, it was empty. He reveled in the silence of it, in the solace of home for a moment. He would do anything and be anywhere for his friends, for the people he loved most in the world, but quiet times like these were needed, too. 

He took a long shower, making the water as hot as he could stand it and coming out feeling clean, the skin of his shoulders and his face pink from the warmth. Then he got dressed, putting on a pair of underwear and an overlarge shirt that wasn’t his, one that had been through his washing machine once but didn’t quite yet smell like his own washing detergent, scrunching the fabric up to his face and breathing it in before tugging it over his head. Then he unlocked his front door and crawled into bed. 

It didn’t take long for the door to open. His name was called, and a moment later Seungcheol was standing in his bedroom doorway, a smile on his face. 

“Hey.” Jeonghan didn’t sit up, letting his eyes squeeze closed, stretching like a cat. He held his arms out, making grabby hands until Seungcheol stepped further into the room. 

“Why was your door unlocked?” Seungcheol asked, coming up to stand next to the bed. 

“Didn’t feel like getting up to let you in.” Jeonghan reached out to hold Seungcheol’s hand, stopping when he noticed bandages on him, wrapped around the heels of both of his palms. 

“I know where the spare key is.” Seungcheol said with a laugh, noticing his hesitation and taking Jeonghan’s hand anyway, slotting their fingers together. Jeonghan used the hand to give him a tug downward, Seungcheol laughing again, Jeonghan’s free hand finding the back of Seungcheol’s neck. Seungcheol followed willingly, easily bending down, and Jeonghan kissed him. Something in his chest settled a little, was soothed by touching Seungcheol, and when they broke apart Seungcheol took a seat on the side of the bed. 

“Maybe it was just wishful thinking. Leaving the door open would make you come faster.” 

Seungcheol hummed a bit. “And yet you didn’t want to wait in the front room for me?” 

His smile was teasing, Jeonghan pulling on him again, the smile turning fully into a laugh as Seungcheol fell onto the bed, half on Jeonghan’s body. Jeonghan kissed him again.

“My apartment is too small for that distance to matter much.” He said, and Seungcheol’s expression was so openly and unapologetically smitten that it made Jeonghan’s heart ache a little.

“Just tell me to, and I’ll buy you as big of a house as you want.” Seungcheol told him, and Jeonghan couldn’t help a grin.

“It’s so sexy that you’re rich.” He said, the openness of the statement having Seungcheol laughing again, pressing his forehead into Jeonghan’s shoulder. 

Jeonghan didn’t really know, exactly, how long he’d liked Seungcheol. He wasn’t sure how to quantify it. They’d met in school, dancing around each other for a couple of months. When Jeonghan realized that there could be more to Seungcheol’s attention to him than just friendliness he’d pursued it, just to see how it felt, acting more deliberate; flirting with Seungcheol, leaning on him, sitting near him or walking next to him just to see if Seungcheol would put an arm around his shoulder. He would, and Jeonghan found himself delighting in the attention. 

They’d kissed a couple of times, once before Jeonghan was sure about his feelings and twice after he was, all of the instances sort of on accident--as “on accident” as a kiss could be--when they were alone and had looked at each other for a little too long and there was no one there to interrupt them. All of the kisses went unacknowledged, tentatively avoiding each other’s spaces, Jeonghan feeling a little lovesick but unsure of how to remedy it when Seungcheol had stopped him in the hallway one day after school, grabbing him by the wrist and asking him to be his boyfriend. 

He’d said yes, despite feeling hesitant about putting a label on things, but now he reveled in it, the way he could call Seungcheol _"his"_ and have it mean something. Even if they both had to hide it from their friends. He was in love, and he was loved, and that was what mattered. 

Seungcheol gathered himself off of Jeonghan, getting changed into something more comfortable, swapping out his jeans for a pair of sweatpants that he took from the stash of personal clothes that he kept in Jeonghan’s dresser. Jeonghan liked having some of Seungcheol’s clothes in his apartment--it made them very easy to steal and wear himself--though the process of getting them had been accidental; Jeonghan’s complaints that Seungcheol was stretching out his pajama pants when he borrowed them had secretly been a ploy to get his boyfriend to stop wearing pants altogether when he was in the apartment, but it had backfired a little. 

He got back into bed and they got comfortable, Seungcheol’s next question one Jeonghan had been expecting. 

“How is Seokmin?” 

“He’s okay.” Jeonghan said. “He’ll be fine. Jihoon helped calm him down, and then he went to sleep.”

“Jihoon calmed someone down?” Seungcheol asked, surprised. Jeonghan glanced down at the blankets. 

“Well, we had to calm Jihoon down first. Is Seungkwan okay?” 

“He’s about as okay as he can be.” Worry put a slight twist in Seungcheol’s expression. “Mingyu took him home, and then he kept me updated. He texted me about an hour ago--well, about two hours now--to tell me that Seungkwan had stopped crying and gone to bed.”

“It was nice of Mingyu to stay with him.” Jeonghan said, Seungcheol nodding a bit. “What happened? Was there a bump in the road? We didn’t see what happened; he’d already spun out by the time we noticed him.” 

“There was someone in the street.” Seungcheol said. “I mean, Seungkwan and Mingyu were both going too fast, but Seungkwan was trying to get a speeding ticket--”

_"Trying_ to get a speeding ticket?” Jeonghan echoed.

“--and someone just appeared in front of Seungkwan’s bike. Out of thin air, or something; he hadn’t been there before. Seungkwan was trying not to hit him.”

“What happened to the guy?” Jeonghan asked, but Seungcheol only shrugged.

“I don’t know. Disappeared again, apparently; I actually never saw him, but Seungkwan and Mingyu both did. Mingyu told me about it.” 

“Tell your friends that they need to stop being idiots.” Jeonghan said, letting out a sigh. “Two people could have died tonight, and two is way too many.” 

Seungcheol was looking at him again, just watching him quietly for a moment. Jeonghan looked back, waiting for whatever it was that he was going to say. He was caught off guard by Seungcheol moving towards him instead, slipping his arms around him and pulling him close. Jeonghan let himself be held for a moment, the hug tighter than he expected, before wiggling a bit, getting comfortable with his back against Seungcheol’s chest. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt.” 

Jeonghan hummed a little in acknowledgment, reaching for one of the arms Seungcheol had wrapped around him. 

“I wish I could say the same for you, but you’re all bandaged up.” He said, taking Seungcheol’s hand and turning it palm up, tracing a circle pattern over the bandage, making sure his touch was feather-light. “Why is it that every time I see you, you have a new injury?” 

He already knew the answer, but it was worth asking again just to hear Seungcheol try to think of a new excuse. It took him a few moments. 

“Because my friends are idiots, remember?” He finally said, and Jeonghan sighed. 

“Okay, but they’re not babies.” Jeonghan said, continuing when Seungcheol opened his mouth to speak. “I mean, not actual infants. They can take a cut finger, or a scraped knee. It doesn’t always have to be you.” 

Seungcheol was quiet for a long moment. “I just don’t want them to be hurt.” He said, and Jeonghan sighed. Seungcheol was too good. 

“And I don’t want you to be hurt.” He pulled himself from Seungcheol’s arms so he could face him instead, putting a hand on his cheek, brushing over his cheekbone with his thumb. 

“I know.” Seungcheol said. Jeonghan drew him in and kissed him, wanting to put an action behind the words, trying to kiss him breathless but ending up a little breathless himself. 

“...Mingyu.” Seungcheol said, when Jeonghan pulled away. Jeonghan stared at him. 

“You did not just say that.”

“No, I--” Seungcheol burst out laughing, trying to hug Jeonghan again, who began batting at his arms. “No, listen! Just--Mingyu got mad at me too, when I used my ability on him the other day.”

“He didn’t kiss you, did he?”

“No!” Seungcheol was still laughing. “He tried to make me give him his headache back. We got into an argument.”

“Yeah, idiot. He got mad because he cares about you.”

“Mad because he cares.” Seungcheol repeated. “He must love Jihoon, then.”

“He just might.” Jeonghan got comfortable again, propping a pillow behind his head so he could sit up against the wall behind his bed. “Speaking of Jihoon though, he does feel bad about what he said. About the funeral thing. He’s planning on apologizing, so make sure Soonyoung gets a look at all of the bouquets. Considering who else will send flowers in, it’ll probably be the smallest one there.”

Seungcheol nodded a little in understanding. The mention of the funeral had him going somber, drawing in a little, and Jeonghan felt it immediately, reaching over to run a hand lightly through his hair. 

“How is Soonyoung doing?” He asked, and Seungcheol shrugged. 

“I don't really know. He really doesn’t want to talk about it, but apparently out with us tonight was the first time in three days that he’s eaten anything.”

“So, he’s not doing great.” Jeonghan remarked. “I… I’m a little surprised that he’s so upset. Didn’t he disagree with almost all of his uncle’s views on things? Like… ‘Basic human rights’ types of things?”

“I mean, yeah.” Seungcheol shrugged. “But he’s still family.”

Jeonghan didn’t really have a response to that. He drew the line in a different place, he supposed; his parents were tolerable and his little sister was good, but there was a reason he’d accepted a scholarship for a private school far away from all of his relatives, a boarding school, and had moved into a shitty apartment complex nearby upon graduation instead of going back home. He had his friends; they were accepting, and they were family enough. 

“There was something else too, though.” Seungcheol said, and he looked uneasy. “Can you promise that if I tell you, you won’t freak out?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan schooled his face into something neutral, calm with a bit of concern, despite the zip of nerves that the question sent up his chest. 

“Soonyoung--well, all four of us--heard him die before it happened.” 

Jeonghan studied his face for a moment, narrowing his eyes.

“How? Do you know anyone with time-altering abilities?” He asked. He didn’t think that Seungcheol did, but there was always the possibility of a rich colleague that he hadn’t met. Seungcheol frowned at him.

“No, it wasn’t through another person; Soonyoung’s family has this phone in his house, and whenever it rings, someone dies. It rang while we were all over at his house, about a week ago, and I answered it.” 

“You--you answered the--” Jeonghan didn’t know whether to hit Seungcheol or cry, doing neither and burying his face into his boyfriend’s chest instead, his next words muffled. “You answered the death phone? Why?” 

“It was scaring Seungkwan!” Seungcheol defended, his arms going around Jeonghan automatically. “Besides, it doesn’t kill the person that answers it. Nobody was on the other line, and then there was a voicemail on the phone that, it… It recorded the audio of the event, somehow.”

“Okay. Did you know that before, or after you answered it?” 

“...after.” Seungcheol admitted, kissing Jeonghan’s head after he spoke like that would somehow help. “But… We heard it. Mr. Kwon and his secretary, and he was panicking, and… He got out of his car and was walking down the highway. We heard him get hit, and she started screaming.”

“Oh.” Jeonghan said. 

“So that probably has something to do with how hard it’s been on him. The phone call was almost a week before he died; Soonyoung was just waiting for it to happen. The whole family was just waiting.” Seungcheol‘s voice went quiet. “I just… I don’t know what to do. I want to be there, and I want to help him, but I don’t know how.”

“Being there might be the only way you can help him.” Jeonghan said, knowing Seungcheol wouldn’t like that answer, that it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but was true. “He needs support; he needs his friends. Just give love to him.” 

Seungcheol nodded a bit, Jeonghan reaching up to put a hand on his cheek. Seungcheol leaned into the contact, his eyes falling closed, and Jeonghan leaned in to press a soft kiss on his mouth. 

“Give love to me too.” He murmured, smiling back when he felt Seungcheol smile against his lips. Seungcheol pulled him in tighter, rolling from his side to his back so Jeonghan was resting on top of him. Some of Jeonghan’s hair fell between them, dyed a reddish brown and getting a little long in the front, both of them laughing as Jeonghan tried to tuck it behind his ear. 

“I miss your longer hair sometimes.” Seungcheol said, Jeonghan humming in response. 

“Really?” He asked, Seungcheol running his hand through Jeonghan’s hair, his hand coming to a stop on his neck. 

“I like this too, though.”

“You said that about my last hair style.” Jeonghan chided. 

“I like anything, as long as it’s you.” 

Jeonghan wanted to tease him for being too cheesy but the words sounded too sincere, and he ended up just smiling instead, ducking his chin. Seungcheol raised his head up to kiss Jeonghan’s cheeks, a happy laugh coming from his lips, Jeonghan burying his face into Seungcheol’s neck. He began to press kisses there, feeling it more than hearing it as a soft sound rose in Seungcheol’s throat, running the fingertips of one hand lightly down Jeonghan’s back. 

He felt so comfortable, so happy and relaxed and _good;_ it was always like this with Seungcheol, but it was especially nice after the long day he’d had, nice to just have him, to hold him, to kiss him. He’d never loved anyone the way he loved Seungcheol. He didn’t think he would ever love anyone else the way he loved Seungcheol. 

“What would you do?” Jeonghan asked, Seungcheol raising his eyebrows in question, meeting his eyes. His eyes were beautiful, brown and warm and framed by long eyelashes. “If you were in one of those calls? If you found out you only had a week left?” 

“Oh.” Seungcheol went quiet again, his face somber and thoughtful. He rubbed his hand up and down Jeonghan’s back, sliding across the soft fabric of his shirt. “I… I don’t know.” 

Jeonghan nodded in understanding. It was a heavy question, heavier than the conversation really called for, so he let the non-answer go and raised himself up instead, putting his knees on either side of Seungcheol’s hips and sitting back so he could look more fully at Seungcheol beneath him. 

“I would want to spend it with you, I think.” He said. Seungcheol looked taken aback, just for a moment, the look in his eyes settling into something so devotedly enamored that Jeonghan couldn’t do anything but look back. Seungcheol rested his hands on Jeonghan’s hips, sliding them under Jeonghan’s shirt and up his sides. Seungcheol was pulling him close, pulling him in, Jeonghan pulling the shirt he had on up and over his head before leaning down oblidgingly. 

“I love you so much.” Seungcheol murmured against his skin, pressing a kiss to his lips that Jeonghan deepened, letting his mouth open, putting a hand into Seungcheol’s hair. Seungcheol kissed down Jeonghan’s neck, kissed Jeonghan’s collarbone, sucking on the skin and pulling a gasp from him. 

“I love you too.” Jeonghan answered, the words feeling almost unneeded with how known they were, but Seungcheol still reacted to them every time, bringing his head back up to press light kisses to Jeonghan’s face. “I love you too.” 

The sun was rising behind the closed window blinds, Jeonghan and Seungcheol sinking into the sheets together. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on posting this until tomorrow but I think i'm gonna be way too excited tomorrow to even think about it so !!! today instead  
> it's in the tags already but 'blood and injury' does happen in this chapter. this one is also a little heavier than the past chapters have been, so warning for that I guess? not like by a lot but still

_**04** _

“Hey, have you watched the news lately?” 

Vernon couldn’t do much more than turn and stare at Chan. It was only the two of them in Chan’s basement, and Chan had been thoroughly kicking his ass at video games for the past two hours. Vernon couldn’t ever think of a time, in his whole entirety of being his friend, that Chan had cared at all about the affairs of the outside world.

“...no.” He finally answered. “Have  _ you _ been watching the news?” 

“Well, no.” Chan admitted after a moment. “But you remember that voicemail, right?”

He pointed at the pink phone on the table in the room, now quiet and still. It had stopped blinking about four days ago, something Vernon was glad about, because while it had been lit up pink it felt weird to be at Chan’s house, hard to sit around and hang out when there was a bright reminder of a horrible traffic accident flashing in the middle of the room. 

“I do.” Vernon said. “What about it?”

“It happened.” Chan told him. “The guy in the voicemail--”

“Mr. Kwon.” Vernon remembered. 

“Right, Mr. Kwon. My mom told me this morning; Legislator Kwon, a member of the National Assembly… He was killed in a car accident a couple of days ago.”

Vernon couldn’t do much more than stare at Chan, feeling as though he couldn’t properly reconcile the information in his mind. “...what?”

“Yeah, and it happened exactly how we heard it. He parked his car on the side of the highway, and got out and started walking across--nobody knows why--and his secretary was chasing after him, and some person that was speeding down the street just… Ran into him and killed him.” 

The details didn’t make the event any easier to digest. Vernon looked over at the phone again. They hadn’t played the voicemail since the first time listening to it, nobody wanting to hear it again, but the memories of what it sounded like were still fresh in Vernon’s mind. It was exactly like Chan had just said. 

Vernon pulled his phone out, searching up Legislator Kwon, clicking through a few news articles. The news matched up with what Chan said. What Chan said matched up with that the phone had recorded. 

“We, we…” Vernon had a hard time putting the words together, let alone get them out. “We heard him… We heard him die?” 

“I think so.” Chan’s eyes were big, his face serious; he’d already had time to process this information, and was just watching Vernon. “I think we did.” 

Vernon looked over at the phone again. He briefly wondered if they should break it. 

“Have you told the others?” He asked. Chan shook his head. “Well, they… I mean, they should know, don’t you think?”

After a moment of consideration, Chan nodded. Vernon tapped Joshua’s number, and Joshua picked up on the third ring. 

“Can you come to Chan’s? We all need to talk.”

“Why do you sound weird?” Joshua asked back. “Are you--is something wrong?”

There was a noise in the background, a rustling, like Joshua was already on the move. 

“I’m okay. You don’t need to rush or anything.”

“I hate this. I can’t tell if you’re lying to me or not.” Joshua sounded well and truly distressed, and Vernon didn’t want that at all.

“I never lie to you.” He said, because it was true; it was useless to lie to Joshua when they were together, and they were together so often that always being truthful was just second nature by now. 

“I’m on my way.” 

_ "I really am okay.” _ Vernon said again, lowering his voice and speaking in English to see if that would make any difference, to see if that would make Joshua worry less.  _ “You’re worse than my mom, seriously.” _

_ “Oh my god, don’t compare me to your mom.”  _ Joshua responded, and Vernon couldn’t help but laugh a little.  _ “See you soon.” _

When Vernon hung up he turned to Chan, who had called Junhui while he’d been talking to Joshua. 

“Minghao answered Junhui’s phone, so they’re both coming.” He reported. 

They couldn’t really focus on video games anymore, just waiting for their friends to arrive. Joshua got there first, Junhui and Minghao only a couple minutes behind, but it was enough time for Joshua to put an arm over Vernon’s shoulders, Vernon knowing he was probably checking through his mind. He leaned back in surprise when he found out what Vernon was thinking about, about the pink phone--because genuinely, Vernon wouldn’t have been able to stop thinking about it if he tried--his free hand going up to his mouth. 

“It--what?” He asked, but full explanation waited until Junhui and Minghao joined them. Chan told them what he’d told Vernon, Vernon interjecting with a few of the details he’d seen on the news articles he’d skimmed through, and they all sat there for a few moments in silence. 

“So, that phone--” Joshua pointed to it on the table, “--can what, tell the future? Why?”

“Has it ever rung before?” Junhui asked Chan, who shook his head.

“I’d never seen it make any noise until a week ago.” He said. “I used to plug it in sometimes, because it would make the light turn on--not blink, just turn on. It was pretty boring though, because it didn’t work.”

“It works now.” Vernon remarked. 

“Did anything happen to it?” Joshua asked. “Your mom didn’t take it anywhere?”

“Not that I know of.” Chan sounded doubtful. “I mean, it gets picked up when people clean down here I guess, but I don’t think it’s left the basement since we moved in.” 

“Well, what happened the day that it rang?” Vernon asked. “We were all here…” 

They went through the day, some of it hard to remember, most of it feeling inconsequential. 

“And then I pretended to punch Minghao, and he pretended to fall backwards…” Chan’s voice was slow as he spoke, half acting out the movements with his hands as he went. “...and he touched the phone, and then it rang.” 

As if on cue, the phone started to ring. They all stared at it, Vernon feeling goosebumps go up his arms. 

_ “Not again."  _ Joshua murmured. Vernon didn’t want to answer it again, though he knew that nobody would be on the other line, and that the real dread came from whatever the voicemail would be. Someone had to answer it; listening to the ringing was delaying the inevitable, and the ringing wouldn’t stop until someone picked up the phone.

Thankfully, Junhui was the one that reached forwards, pressing the receiver to his ear. They all watched him with equally anxious expressions, but after a couple seconds of silence, he put the phone down. 

“Nobody.” He reported. “Like last time, right?”

The question was directed at Vernon, who nodded. Also like last time the phone had lit up, blinking insistently at them. 

“The voicemail.” Joshua said. Chan reached forwards, pushing the button. The voicemail started immediately.

“Joshua! Joshua, are you--you’re--”

Vernon felt his blood run cold. They weren’t hearing some stranger, some random person about to get into a horrible accident; Vernon was hearing his own voice, high in desperation and quick with panic, and he was saying Joshua’s name. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry--” That was Chan, also panicked, and sounding close to tears. “It was--it was an accident, Shua, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“You’re bleeding--your head--there’s so much blood--” 

Blood. An accident. Joshua was hurt. Hurt badly, if their reactions were anything to go by, and their reactions were all they had. The voicemail stopped, the following silence almost painful, the phone flashing pink. 

“How much time?” Minghao asked. His voice was quiet, and he looked shaken; this was the first time he’d spoken since he’d arrived at Chan’s. All of them looked at him, the words of the question not enough, and he tried again. “Between the first voicemail and Legislator Kwon’s accident. How much time?” 

Oh. Vernon tried to swallow, but he felt a lump rising in his throat, hard and painful. 

“Five days.” Chan said. “It was five days.”

Clumsy fingers found Vernon’s own on the couch, Vernon looking down to see Joshua’s hand, shaking badly, reaching for his. Vernon did what he could, turning his hand palm up to slide his fingers between Joshua’s and squeezing tightly. He looked up at Joshua’s face, so pale and scared, Joshua meeting his eyes. 

“I… I have five days.” He said, giving Vernon’s hand a squeeze back and not letting go. 

The next couple of days were awful. Part of Vernon was refusing to believe that the voicemail was real, that the first one was just a coincidence, that none of it meant anything. That nothing bad was going to happen to Joshua. That Joshua would be fine, because Vernon didn’t know what he would do if something terrible happened to him. 

Something terrible. That was always where his brain stopped. He couldn’t actually imagine what that “something terrible” truly meant; it was too much, hurt too much, making him want to run to wherever Joshua was at that moment, hold him and never let go. Usually he could hold himself back, but when midnight came on the night before the fifth day Joshua had left, Vernon couldn’t; he slipped from his room and rode to Joshua’s house in the dark, stopping his motorcycle in the driveway and pulling out his phone. 

Joshua picked up almost immediately. 

“Hey.” He said quietly. 

“Are you awake?” Vernon asked. 

“No, I answered the phone in my sleep.” Joshua didn’t sound drowsy, the slight bite of sarcasm in his voice making Vernon smile. 

“Want to let me in, then?” Vernon asked.

“What?” Joshua sounded confused, but there was a smile already in his voice, and a moment later his face was in his bedroom window, his phone pressed to his ear. “You--”

He disappeared just a second later, Vernon walking up to the front door. As soon as he stepped up to it, it swung open. Joshua was already moving through the doorway to meet him, freezing when he saw Vernon so close, Vernon able to hear a sharp inhale through his open lips.

Vernon had run through this moment in his head a couple of times when he’d debated whether to go to Joshua’s or not, if he would run to him, or hug him, or cry. Now that he was actually there though, he found himself frozen. 

“Hi.” Joshua said, Vernon realizing that he’d been watching Joshua’s mouth since he’d heard him gasp, looking up to his eyes instead. “What are you doing here?” 

They’d all avoided talking about it, avoided even being vague about what was supposed to happen, but Vernon never lied to Joshua. 

“I wanted to see you.” 

“At midnight?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” Joshua’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Come in, then.” 

They made it all the way into Joshua’s room and all the way onto Joshua’s bed before either of them spoke again. 

“I haven’t said anything to my parents.” Joshua told him. “I don’t… I don’t even know what I would say, I guess. I’ve prayed for them. For strength for them.” He knocked his shoulder against Vernon's, his eyes down on his hands. “I've prayed for you, too.” 

“I can’t... This… I can’t just let this happen.” Vernon said, stumbling over his words, knowing Joshua could hear what he really wanted to say, despite being unable to make himself say it.  _ I can’t lose you. _

“Well, maybe you won’t. Maybe it won’t happen.” Joshua’s voice was light. “We already agreed; I’m going to stay at home tomorrow. I’m not going to see you. I’m not going to see Chan. No ‘accident’ is going to happen, and everything is going to be fine.” 

Vernon nodded. They had talked about that a couple of days ago, about making a plan to keep Joshua safe. Everyone but Minghao had been for it; Minghao had been very quiet, except to say--soft but insistent--that attempting to stop what was happening was futile. That changing the future was impossible. That trying to avoid it might lead to something worse. Vernon had tried not to get angry at him for that, but hadn’t really succeeded. 

“Make sure you text me tomorrow.” Vernon said. “But no phone calls.”

“No phone calls.” Joshua agreed with a nod. Nothing audible. None of them were going to speak to each other, just in case. How that would really help, no one was sure, but it didn’t really matter. Anything and everything was going to be tried. “Though, technically… It’s after midnight. On the fifth day. You’re not supposed to be here. This plan is already falling apart.” 

There was a slight smile in his voice, but Vernon couldn’t really smile back. 

“Oh, come on.” Joshua wrapped an arm around Vernon’s neck, and before Vernon really knew what was happening, had pulled him down into bed, landing clumsily across the blankets. “It’s late, and I refuse to just sit here and worry. I know that you haven’t been sleeping well; let’s just go to bed, and we’ll see what happens in the morning.” 

The room was dark, Vernon not really able to see Joshua’s face as they got under the blankets, very close together on Joshua’s twin-sized mattress. 

“You’re my best friend.” Vernon said, keeping his voice hushed in the silence of the room.

“You’re mine.” Joshua responded, his voice somehow softer, closer; he was laying on his side, facing Vernon. 

“You know that I love you, right?” 

Joshua put his arm across Vernon’s chest, pulling him in. “Of course I do. Go to sleep.” 

Somehow, Vernon did end up going to sleep before Joshua. He had no idea when Joshua finally managed to get his eyes closed, but it must have been late because when Vernon woke the next morning he was able to get himself out of both Joshua’s arms and Joshua’s bed without waking him. Joshua didn’t look like he was resting well, his eyelids a bit red and puffy even in sleep, which told Vernon that at some point after he himself had fallen asleep, Joshua had started crying, and had cried for a while. It made Vernon wonder, for a moment, if he should have come at all. 

He wrote a short note, a small  _ See you tomorrow,  _ leaving it on Joshua’s desk before slipping out and going back home. 

The day was both too much and absolutely nothing all at once. Vernon was glad nothing was happening and completely couldn’t stand it, the hours passing sluggishly. He was so amped up and freaked out that when the day ended and nothing had happened, he didn’t know what to do. 

They gave it until midnight. Then until the next morning. When the entire next day had passed without incident Joshua sent a message to the group chat, requesting that they all meet up, that he wanted to see them. They went to Chan’s house because they always went to Chan’s house, wanting to avoid the basement and going to some giant study room instead. They congregated in a corner with a fancy wooden record player, two bookshelves, and some couches, looking around at each other. 

“Well, I’m still alive.” Joshua said. He sounded a bit uneasy, about as uneasy as everyone else looked. “I mean, I’m not sure why, but I’m happy about it.” 

“Do you think that’s it?” Junhui asked. “That we avoided it?” 

Despite wanting to believe that, Vernon felt doubtful. He glanced over at Chan to see him looking distraught, a tinge of fear in his expression. Joshua must have noticed Vernon looking, and glanced over too.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

“I’m scared.” Chan confessed. “I know that you were the one in danger, that I shouldn’t be thinking like this, but I listened to the voicemail again the other day and the accident, whatever was supposed to happen--it was my fault. I don’t… I don’t want to be the one that hurts you.” 

Joshua’s face collapsed into something soft and sad, getting up from the couch, but the moment he took a step towards Chan, Chan took a step backwards.

“Oh, no.” Joshua said emphatically. “Nope; I’m hugging you. Come here.” 

He gave Chan an exaggerated squeeze, shaking his shoulders a little to jostle the both of them until a smile appeared on Chan’s face. He didn’t really release him either, taking a step to the side and keeping one arm around Chan as he turned to address the room. 

“I called everyone because I’m not dead, and I missed you guys, and I wanted to have fun.” He said. “So either we start doing something fun, or I start cleaning Chan’s room.”

“No!” Chan whined, the group laughing. Vernon picked up a small throw pillow from the couch he was sitting on, the thing pristine white and very uncomfortable thanks to the raised floral pattern wrapping all the way around it, chucking it at Chan’s head. Chan caught it easily, able to see it coming before it was even out of Vernon’s hands, and threw it back. 

That started an impromptu game of catch between the two of them, and on Vernon’s third toss of the pillow in Chan’s direction, Joshua tried to grab it. Chan saw that coming too, swiping the pillow out of the air before Joshua could get it and dashing away. Junhui chased after him, and then all five of them were involved. 

It felt very juvenile, running through Chan’s house to play keep away with a throw pillow, but it felt good, too, to have such loud and harmless fun. They split naturally and wordlessly into teams, Joshua and Minghao against Vernon, Chan, and Junhui, Minghao’s ability to run and dodge quickly--along with Vernon’s inability to do much of anything when it came to sports and Junhui’s inclination to let Minghao get away with anything his heart desired--more than made up for the advantage that having one more person gave Vernon’s team, even with one of those people being Chan.

“Joshua!” Minghao shouted out, his arms over his head, ready to throw the pillow at full force. Joshua turned to him with his hands raised, Chan letting out a shout and running to intercept. The two jumped at the same time as Minghao let the pillow go, Joshua up in the air, Chan over towards him. 

Vernon saw a twist in Chan’s expression as soon as his feet were off the ground, but there wasn’t much that could be done; Chan’s shoulder collided with Joshua’s side, Joshua getting slammed backwards, the side of his head hitting the corner of the bookcase behind him. He crumpled to the ground, his eyes falling closed, and Vernon felt his heart leap into his throat.

“Joshua!” He yelled, already running forwards. “Joshua, are you--” He almost asked “are you okay”, but the answer to that was glaringly, painfully obvious; Joshua was slumped against the bookcase he’d hit, a thin gash across the side of his face cutting from the side of his head, just under his cheekbone, to where his forehead met his hairline above his left eyebrow. “You’re--”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry--it was--it was an accident Shua, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

Chan had crouched next to him, his voice fast and high and scared, but Vernon didn’t really notice. Joshua’s eyes had opened just a bit, and he was wincing, looking around. 

“You’re bleeding--your head--” Vernon tried to tell him; the blood was thick and dark, seemingly unstoppable, already running down to Joshua’s eyes--it was going to get into Joshua’s eyes-- “There’s so much blood--”

_ Blood. An accident. _ Vernon realized it in the same moment he heard a gasp behind him, turning to see Junhui staring down at them all with wide eyes. This was it, this was the audio they’d heard in the voicemail. They were living it. Joshua was about to die. 

“We need to stop the bleeding.” Junhui said, jumping into action. He took the pillow from the floor and pressed it to Joshua’s face while Chan ran off to find a towel and maybe his mom if she was home; Vernon didn’t really ask. Joshua was reaching out, starting to sit up, looking disoriented, so Vernon took his hand and made him stay still. 

“Guys, guys--” Joshua tried, and he was starting to pull himself from Vernon’s grip, still struggling to get his feet under him. “I--” 

“Please, just--” The panic in Vernon’s chest wasn’t going anywhere, just constricting tighter and tighter, and Joshua met his eyes, the welling tears in them twisting Vernon’s stomach even more.

“He’s okay.” The voice was quiet but it stopped the commotion, all of them turning to look at Minghao. Minghao, however, was looking at Joshua. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Joshua pulled his hand from Vernon’s grip, using it to grab at the bookshelf and pull himself up. “I mean, it really hurts--it really, really hurts--but--”

Chan burst into the room with an entire first aid kit, his eyes wild. 

“I called, an ambulance is on its way, I…” He trailed off when he saw Joshua on his feet, the entire room staring at him. “What?” 

“Head wounds just bleed a lot.” Joshua said, sounding much too matter-of-fact for the heart attack Vernon was currently in the middle of. “Haven’t any of you ever had a nose bleed?” 

All of them watched as Joshua pulled himself into the nearest chair, sitting heavily. He took the pillow off the side of his head, looking at it in despair. The pillow itself looked straight out of a murder scene, the floral design soaked in red. 

“Are you… Are you sure you’re okay?” Junhui asked slowly. 

“Yes!” Joshua insisted. “Could I get something better for my head? You guys seriously ruined this pillow, we’ll have to buy Chan’s mom a new one…”

Whatever else Joshua said was completely lost to a wave of relief, Vernon sinking to his knees. He put his head in one hand, unable to do much more than watch Joshua continue to talk as he helped Chan get the first aid kit open, nagging and nodding and even laughing a little bit. He had blood all the way down his neck, tacky and dark from already starting to dry, but he was sitting up, he was talking; he was alive. 

Vernon didn’t know if Joshua felt his gaze or heard his thoughts, but either way he looked over, his expression softening a little bit, and he offered up a smile. 

The ambulance came screeching into the driveway just a few minutes later. They all ran downstairs to greet it, Joshua explaining the situation as an overreaction and apologizing to the emergency personnel. They looked at his injury anyway, telling him that it wasn’t deep enough to need stitches and bandaging it properly for him, telling him what over-the-counter pain medication he should probably take. Then they were all ridiculed for playing too rough--and shouldn’t they know better?--the ambulance driving away. 

They all collapsed into Chan’s front room after that, Chan going to get Joshua some painkillers and a glass of water. Vernon felt exhausted. Not like he’d just run a mile, or finished a workout; his heart hurt. He needed to hug Joshua and take a nap, preferably at the same time. 

“So… I guess it’s not a death sentence?” Junhui finally said. “The voicemails, I mean. Which is a good thing.”

“Yeah. And the amount of days doesn’t matter either.” Joshua said. Chan came back, Joshua accepting the water and the medication gratefully. “It’ll happen, whether we try to stop it or not.” 

Vernon nodded a bit, wondering when this had happened, when this had become their new reality. Again, he thought about breaking the phone. He almost brought it up, glancing around the room when he noticed something. His surprise was sharp enough for Joshua to notice, and he was the one that spoke up.

“Minghao? Are you okay?” 

Minghao looked close to tears. He ducked his head, his voice sounding a bit thick as he spoke. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He said. “I… I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Minghao always spoke carefully, always picked and chose what he was going to say. “Why are you sorry?”

Minghao wiped at his face. “I think that this is my fault.”

There it was again, that feeling that Vernon had always had; that something was weird about Minghao, and he had to ask. 

“What ability do you have?” 

Nobody in the room seemed to have expected that question, all of them looking at him. Junhui was the first person to look back at Minghao, and Minghao pulled away from Junhui on the couch, nerves all over his face. 

“It’s okay.” Joshua said. “Whatever it is; you can tell us. I know it kind of scares you, and you don’t really like it, but… Maybe talking about it will help?” 

All of that had Minghao staring at Joshua, who hastened to explain. 

“I should have told you when we met. I can read minds. Don’t worry; yours is really hard for me. I don’t know any Mandarin.” 

That last part didn’t seem to ease any of Minghao’s worry, but he spoke anyway. 

“I don’t really know how it works.” He confessed. “I have a hard time controlling it and what it does. But… I distort time.”

“Distort?” Chan echoed. “What do you mean?” 

“Time is weird around me.” Minghao said. “I have plants in my room that just… Never change. They’re stuck somehow. Some things I touch disappear and reappear later, jumping ahead in time. Or they jump behind, and I never see them again.”

“Is it just with objects?” Joshua asked. “Or can you use it on yourself too?” 

“I used to use it on myself. I can make myself freeze while time moves for everyone else, or the other way around, but… I don’t like to do things with it. I tried to sleep in instead of going to school once, when I was younger. I froze myself instead of everyone else and I lost a whole season. My parents thought I was comatose and took me to the hospital. Doctors thought I was dead, because nothing was happening inside my body. For me, it was like I’d closed and opened my eyes, but my mom didn’t stop crying for a week after I woke up. I didn’t use it on myself after that, and I try not to use it at all. ”

Vernon had never really thought about it, the implications and intricacies of time travel. 

“So you didn’t mean to do it, when you touched that phone in the basement?” He asked. Minghao shook his head. 

“It just happens sometimes. Maybe because I don’t regularly use it. It just slips out. I do things to objects. I get… I get placed somewhere in the past, or in the future.”

“You’ve been to the future?” Chan asked in surprise. “What is it like?”

Minghao just looked at him for a moment, and when it became evident that he wasn’t going to answer Chan’s question, Vernon asked a question of his own. 

“Minghao, have you ever… In the future, at some point, have you ever been in a building with Junhui?”

At the mention of his name, Junhui looked up. Minghao didn’t look at him though, keeping his eyes on Vernon.

“In the parking garage?” He asked back. Vernon nodded. “How do you know about that?” 

“I have the ability to see the last thing that happened to an object, or a person, when I touch it.” Vernon explained. “Every time I touch you though, I see the same thing. I see you and Junhui in a parking garage.” 

“What happens?” Minghao asked. “After Junhui hugs me? Because… I’ve never been able to go farther than that. Even when I’ve tried on purpose. There’s something wrong. It’s like my power… It stops.” 

Vernon swallowed. “It collapses.” He said. “The building collapses, with both of you inside.” 

The room was silent for a long moment. Then Junhui got to his feet, his face unreadable, but there was something scared behind his eyes. 

“You knew about this.” He said, pointing at Vernon. Then he directed his attention to Joshua. “And you, you had to know.” 

“Jun--” Joshua started, but Junhui was turned away from him, looking at Minghao instead. 

“And you didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell me anything.” 

“I was afraid.” Minghao murmured. He looked incredibly fragile. “Seeing tiny pieces of the future with no context, no explanation--”

“And I’m in your future?” 

Minghao nodded, also getting to his feet, reaching out for Junhui. 

“You’re the last thing I see in my future.” He said. 

Junhui reached for him too, pulling him in and kissing him. Joshua, Vernon, and Chan all sat there, looking around at each other. 

_ Should we go?  _ Vernon asked Joshua silently, after a moment.  _ Give them some privacy? _

Joshua nodded, and after tapping Chan on the shoulder, the three of them left the room. 

“Why was Junhui so mad?” Chan asked. He looked worried, chancing a quick glance back at the room behind them. 

“I don’t think he was actually mad.” Joshua said. “You know how he kind of… Freaks out a little, when he’s overwhelmed. The two of them just need to talk about it.” 

They weren’t really doing much talking, but Vernon didn’t mind, turning to Joshua instead. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked again. Joshua raised his eyebrows. 

“You need to stop asking me that. I’m fine. I’m great, actually, now that the pain medication has kicked in.” He reached over and touched Vernon’s arm. “I need you to promise me something, though.” 

“Yeah?”

“Never, ever be that afraid again. Being inside your head for that was horrible for me.” 

“For you?!” Vernon asked indignantly, and Joshua’s face relaxed into a laugh. “It was worse for me!” 

“I’m really glad I didn’t kill you.” Chan told Joshua, who nodded a little bit. 

“You know what? I’m glad you didn’t kill me too.” Joshua laughed again, Chan laughing with him this time. Vernon didn’t quite feel up to laughing, but the happier atmosphere did help to loosen the knot in his chest. The twisted tangle of worry that had started when they’d first heard the voicemail and had only gotten worse and more suffocating, so easing it away would probably take some time. 

They peeked in on Junhui and Minghao, seeing them sitting on the couch now, talking softly in Mandarin. As Joshua had said, Junhui didn’t really seem angry, and while Minghao did still look emotional, the fear that had previously been there was gone. They were holding each other’s hands, listening to each other speak, patient and attentive. Vernon had no idea what they were saying, but it was still sweet to watch. 

The three of them stayed and listened for a while, though it did get a bit boring. Joshua was focused, obviously tuning into Minghao’s mind in an attempt to see how the conversation was going, Vernon entertaining himself by playing with the fingers on Joshua’s right hand. Chan was sitting on the floor and periodically blowing his bangs out of his eyes when he suddenly got an idea, gasping and jumping up and rushing away. 

“Oh, where’s he going?” Vernon asked, but Joshua wasn’t listening to him and the question went unanswered. Chan came rushing back ten minutes later; he had something in his hand, and it took a couple of moments for Vernon to realize what it was.

“Another phone?” He asked, breaking Joshua out of his concentration. It looked like a cell phone, grey and blocky and very retro, with buttons and an antenna. “What are you going to do with that?”

“I want to see if the same thing will happen again.” Chan said. “If Minghao touches this one too.” 

“He said he didn’t know how he did it the first time.” Joshua said. “He didn’t even mean to do it.”

“Exactly.” Chan answered. 

“Do we… Do we even want another phone?” Vernon asked. “What if…” He gestured to the bandage on Joshua’s head. “What if stuff like this keeps happening?” 

“The phone didn’t make this happen.” Joshua countered. “It just told us that it would happen. Maybe it’s better to know.” 

Vernon wasn’t sure he agreed with that at all. Knowing didn’t stop it from happening, and knowing didn’t give them any tools to combat it. Knowing just made him nervous. 

“He might not even do it.” Chan said, waving them both off and entering the room. The tone seemed a bit heavy but Chan disregarded it completely, Vernon feeling awkward about interrupting as he walked in behind him. 

Minghao didn’t seem super keen on the idea after Chan proposed it. 

“I haven’t used my ability on purpose in a long time.” He said. 

“Well, use it or not; it happens anyway, doesn’t it?” Joshua asked. “Maybe if you channel it towards smaller, harmless things, it would be better. Better than randomly disappearing on accident or something, right?” 

“...Right.” Minghao said. He still looked uneasy. 

“Being able to do what you can do is scary.” Vernon didn’t know where Joshua was coming up with these things, with words that seemed like the right thing to say, but Joshua was very good with knowing what to say. Probably because he genuinely, actually knew what the other person wanted to hear. “But it would be a lot less scary if you knew how to control it. And that only comes with practice.” 

“Or I could just get rid of it.” Minghao murmured. But he was reaching out as he spoke, his thin fingers closing around the grey cell phone. Chan let it go, and Minghao held it for a moment, all of them staring. Nobody in the room seemed to breathe. 

“...nothing is happening.” Chan finally said. It had been immediate last time, the pink phone lighting up the instant Minghao’s hand had made contact, but the grey phone was just sitting there, dull and lifeless. 

Chan took the phone back--apparently it was another of his mother’s relics from the eighties that had been unceremoniously stashed in a basement drawer--and the group decided to part ways for the day. 

In the couple of weeks that followed, Vernon was able to feel a definite shift in their group. The dynamic seemed to change, just a little, and it all had to do with Minghao. It was like a wall that he’d put up between himself and the rest of them came down. He was relaxed, more comfortable, and as a result he was more talkative, his comments sharper, his willingness to play along with jokes having all of them collapsing in laughter. His timidness was vanishing, replaced by a desire to be known by them, to be closer to them, and Vernon was more than happy to foster that want. 

The pink phone stayed silent. The blinking light had turned off again, and while it was still a thing that Vernon regarded with wary eyes, some of the fear from not knowing what it was or how it worked had faded, and that was reassuring. The longer it stayed quiet the less intimidating it became, but that didn’t stop a leap in Vernon’s chest when they were all in the basement together, in the middle of a very stupid game of multilingual telephone, when a phone rang. 

All of them turned to the pink phone immediately, but the device was silent. It wasn’t any of their cell phones either, the sound different, muffled, and after a moment Chan’s eyes went wide and he gasped in realization. He rushed over to a cabinet against the back wall, opening one of the drawers and pulling the grey cell phone out. It was ringing in his hand. 

“Is this because of me?” Minghao asked, pointing at it. “Or does it work on its own?”

“It definitely doesn’t work.” Chan said, the sentence feeling very contradictory with him standing there, holding the ringing device. “The batteries corroded inside of it like ten years ago and killed the wiring.”

“Are you going to answer it?” Vernon asked, and after pulling a bit of a panicked face, Chan did.

“Hello?” He asked, the phone pressed to his ear. He stood very still, everyone else standing around him, before lowering it and shaking his head. 

“Same thing? Still nobody?” 

“Nobody.” He confirmed. “What button--where do I find the voicemails?” 

After some trial and error, Vernon pushed the pound key, sound coming from the phone immediately. 

“--own size?” Came a voice, a voice that, after a quick glance around, Vernon noticed none of them knew. It was a man, a young man, sounding smug and slightly malicious. The tone had absolutely nothing on the complete venom that came in response.

“I fucking hate you, Mingyu.” 

This voice was another man’s, also unfamiliar. Silence followed his words, and if not for the slight sound of scuffling shoes, Vernon would have thought the voicemail over. Then an urgent shout came.

“Wonwoo,  _ don’t--” _

A third voice. The words were quick, distressed, and followed by a shout of pain. Then the voicemail clicked to a stop. The five of them all looked around at each other. 

“Did… Did any of that mean anything to anybody?” Junhui finally asked. The answer was resoundingly negative. 

“Nobody knows anyone named Mingyu?” Chan asked. “Anyone named Wonwoo?” 

“I don’t.” Vernon said. “None of those voices were familiar, either.”

Despite them being strangers, Vernon still didn’t like it. These people, whoever they were, were going to be hurt. Maybe even killed, and they didn’t know it. Vernon wrote the strange names down, resolving to find out what he could. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy comeback everybody!! This is my first korean comeback with svt (my first release overall was fallin flower) and I am !! a little overwhelmed but am very much having fun at the same time ♡ everything about henggarae is wonderful and seeing the boys so confident and happy and _proud_ of what they've created is just icing on the cake WOW i just really love them so much ♡ ♡ ♡ I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!!!

_**05** _

Life, slowly but surely, was getting back to normal. Mingyu was grateful. He considered himself decent at rolling with the punches when it came to the general turbulence of life, but that was more in reference to plans not working out or last minute changes, not the emotional turmoil of his friends. 

The funeral for Soonyoung’s uncle had been weird. Mingyu didn’t know how sad he was supposed to act. He hadn’t really known the man, but the few things he did know about him, he hadn’t liked. He’d just stayed silent instead, keeping his face as politely neutral as he could manage and trying to eat as much as he could without looking disrespectful. Thanks to a side-eye he received from Seungcheol while stuffing an entire pastry in his mouth, he may not have succeeded in the respectfulness department. 

He’d spent the day expecting Soonyoung to cry, because Soonyoung tended to cry easily and this was a funeral, but it didn’t really happen until they were going home. They’d stayed behind a little to help break the festivities down, getting rid of the decorations and returning the trays to the catering service--it wasn’t something they needed to do, or were expected to do, but Mingyu was feeling restless and wanted to have accomplished _something_ with the time he’d spent--and Seungcheol had insisted that Soonyoung take some of the flowers home. He picked out a small bouquet from the bunches of flower arrangements around the room, and something Soonyoung had read on the personalized gift tag for the bouquet had made him cry. Mingyu hadn’t asked about it, figuring it was just the final straw of an emotionally draining day, slinging an arm around Soonyoung as the driver dropped them off at their respective houses. 

Seungkwan was doing better too. Seungkwan didn’t do well being alone so Mingyu and Seungcheol took turns, coordinating with each other, either inviting Seungkwan over or going out with him and sometimes dragging Soonyoung along. As long as silences were filled and someone was trying to make a joke every couple of minutes, things went fine. As long as things stayed fine, Mingyu was fine too. 

He hadn’t seen Jihoon either, or any of Jihoon’s friends. He was a bit interested in how Seokmin was doing, he couldn’t help but admit, finding out from Seungcheol--who claimed to have seen Seokmin out and about--that he was doing well. But Mingyu didn’t make a habit of searching any of them out, especially not Jihoon or Wonwoo. He avoided them if possible. 

Sometimes, it just wasn’t possible. Like now, finding himself face to face with the four of them, all sweaty and in workout clothes, exiting the gym. It was dark out, and Mingyu had felt antsy all day, not wanting to be at home and wanting to burn some energy so he could sleep. Because he could, he’d dragged his friends out with him--Soonyoung had been willing, but Seungkwan and Seungcheol had complained--to work out somewhere that wasn’t any of their houses.

Wonwoo was in the front, his knuckles still wrapped, a towel around his neck and a water bottle in his hand. Jeonghan was in a full outfit of sweatpants and a matching pullover hoodie, a bag over his shoulder. Seokmin also had a bag, stopping midword and midstep, his mouth open when he noticed them, and he didn’t close it, effectively ending his conversation with Jihoon.

Jihoon was in a form fitting t-shirt and shorts, his hair damp and dark and pushed out of his face. There was still a light sheen of sweat all over him, making his skin glow under the yellow streetlights, Mingyu’s eyes catching on the wet hollow of Jihoon’s throat. His whole body had a sated and satisfied sort of energy, relaxed and content, the ease of his movements stopping completely when Seokmin stopped walking. Then he noticed Mingyu staring at him. 

“Hey.” Seungkwan said, giving a slight, half sort of wave. 

“Why are you here?” Seokmin asked. “Don’t like… All of you have gyms in your houses, or something?” 

Technically yes, they did, but working out at home didn’t satisfy Mingyu’s desire to escape for a while. 

“I don’t see why they think they need to work out anyway.” Jihoon added. His tone was muted, like he was talking more to his friends than to everyone, but it was loud enough to hear, and he was staring straight at them. “They already know their money will get them whatever it is they think they need. They don’t have to fight for anything.” 

“I’m sorry that we can’t all be scholarship students with tragic backstories.” Mingyu responded, Jihoon’s eyes narrowing. Mingyu didn’t miss the set to Jeonghan’s mouth either, and did feel a slight twist of guilt for that. Mingyu had been told once that his way of problem-solving was to create an even bigger problem so that the first one wouldn’t be noticed anymore, and while true, it was something he was never able to recognize in the moment. It was always something he realized after everything had all been said and done. He stretched his arms over his head. “We’re here to train. I want to be able to kick Wonwoo’s ass next time.”

“I sincerely believe you won’t be able to do that.” Wonwoo answered. The words weren’t threatening in the slightest, flat and matter of fact, and Mingyu raised his eyebrows.

“Oh? Then I should… What’s the phrase? Pick on someone my own size?” 

The words did exactly what Mingyu wanted them to; Jihoon’s face went dark, his eyes sharp. 

“I fucking hate you, Mingyu.” 

Mingyu took a step towards Jihoon, just because he could. Jihoon sidestepped, but not as a way of backing down; it felt more like Jihoon was sizing him up, looking over him. Getting ready. Wonwoo stepped forwards. 

That got all of them tense. Mingyu saw Soonyoung’s posture straighten up out of the corner of his eye, and both Seokmin and Jeonghan sent uneasy glances Wonwoo’s way. Mingyu could feel Wonwoo staring at him, staring him down, but there was something else behind his eyes. He was daring Mingyu to do something, but desperately wanting him not to. 

Jeonghan took a step forward. He was approaching Wonwoo slowly, carefully, starting to reach out when Wonwoo moved his arm.

“Wonwoo, _don’t--”_ Jeonghan’s voice was fast, emphatic, Mingyu taking a quick step back. Wonwoo wasn’t moving towards him, though; he was dismissing Jeonghan’s concern, hitting Jeonghan’s hand away. He seemed to have misjudged how close Jeonghan had moved towards him, their fingers knocking together, and the moment his hand made contact with Jeonghan’s, Jeonghan let out a yelp of pain, doubling over immediately. 

“Hey--” Seungcheol stepped up, his voice dangerous, and Mingyu’s gut twisted. When Seungcheol spoke out, that meant things were about to get bad. Jeonghan had fallen to his knees, cradling the hand Wonwoo had hit, his entire body hunched over his arm. His breath was short and fast, biting hard on his bottom lip, Seokmin kneeling next to him. 

“Are you okay?” Seokmin asked. His voice was quiet, Mingyu just barely able to hear it, and he didn’t hear Jeonghan’s response. He ended up not needing to, Seokmin raising his head to address the group.

“Jeonghan thinks his fingers are broken. He needs to go to the hospital.” 

Jihoon was on Jeonghan’s other side immediately, helping to urge him to his feet, and the four of them were gone. Seungcheol watched them go, his face set. 

“Are…” Soonyoung’s voice was hesitant, speaking slowly and glancing quickly between the three of them. “Are we going to go in now, or…?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Mingyu stepped up, opening the door to the gym. 

“There’s something wrong with Wonwoo.” Seungcheol said. He was the last one to tear his eyes from the retreating group, the last one to pass through the gym doors. “Something’s changed. There’s something weird about him now.” 

Seungkwan let out a gasp. 

“Maybe we’ve been wrong about his ability this whole time.” He said. He was already excited, his voice quick, and Soonyoung was already engaged in whatever it was he was about to propose. “Maybe he’s got this dark power inside of him, and he’s just going to explode. Bam!” 

The sound effect had an accompanying motion, Seungkwan’s eyes lighting up and his mouth going wide as he spread his hands, his fingers extended. 

“We already know about his super strength.” Mingyu countered. “Nobody has more than one ability.”

“Bam!” Seungkwan said again, the motion more exaggerated this time. Soonyoung began to laugh, doing the “bam!” at Mingyu with Seungkwan, the two of them following him with it all the way into the workout area. 

Mingyu did agree that something about Wonwoo seemed off, but he didn't pretend that he really knew who Wonwoo was anymore, so he didn't know what to think. He definitely didn't think that Wonwoo was going to explode though, like Seungkwan was suggesting. Mingyu didn't know anybody whose ability was combustion. Wonwoo just had enhanced strength, and that wasn't going to change. 

Abilities only fluctuated if they were flexible in nature, if they were something that could be trained to sway in a certain direction. Most were rigid and had set rules; Seungcheol could heal, but he couldn't heal himself by transferring injuries from himself to others instead. Soonyoung could shape shift, but couldn't turn into a hamster instead of the big cat he was meant to be. Those things were cut and dry, only working one way. 

Those things didn't need much practice, either. Mingyu hadn't ever been taught how to talk to animals; all he had to do was open his mouth and speak, and animals could understand him. Soonyoung hadn't needed to help with how to turn into a tiger--the thing he'd needed help with while growing up was how to stop transformations from being spontaneous when he got too excited, and to calm down and ignore more base instincts so he could transform back. Seungcheol had always been able to heal, but over the years had gotten better at doing it in a more precise way, taking injuries only from a certain section of the body, or only healing halfway to turn bleeding wounds into covered scabs. 

Seungkwan needed practice with his, though. Seungkwan came from a long line of famous hypnotists, people that could put others under a spell with the power of their singing voice. Seungkwan's mother was excellent at it, so excellent that it scared Mingyu a little; she could just begin to hum, and anyone nearby would be automatically entranced. Seungkwan, while he sounded beautiful while singing, couldn't really hypnotize people yet. From what Mingyu could tell, it wasn't from a lack of skill. It felt more like a lack of confidence, a lack of desire to so completely incapacitate another person.

Seungkwan had been taking lessons his whole life, but the only person Mingyu knew that he'd successfully hypnotized was Soonyoung. Soonyoung had wanted to be hypnotized, so Mingyu wasn't sure how much that counted, but it still had been funny to watch him running around Seungkwan's bedroom doing animal imitations.

Things had gone a bit south when Seungkwan had told Soonyoung to "be a tiger", and Soonyoung had fully transformed. Seungcheol had run from the room, Seungkwan had tried to climb the curtains to get away from him, and Mingyu had to jump in and try to mediate the situation. He'd never spoken to a hypnotized animal before, let alone a hypnotized animal that was very confused because it still had a hoodie on--the sweater Soonyoung had been wearing was big and stretchy enough for his giant paws and thick neck to fit through the arm and neck holes--but it ended up being okay. It was a story that they all laughed about now.

It had also been the day that Seungcheol and Seungkwan had found out about Soonyoung and Mingyu's abilities. Flat out asking someone what ability they had was seen as rude, and Soonyoung had kept the tiger thing relatively under wraps thanks to how rare it was, not wanting to be seen as someone dangerous. Mingyu had also kept his ability a secret, but it was more because he felt he had to. It was something his father had implored him to do once his parents had realized he'd gotten his mother's ability instead of his father's. Being able to speak to animals was soft, and not nearly as useful as his father's words of persuasion. 

"These people aren't nice." Mingyu still remembered the first words his father had said to him, when they'd stepped into one of his rich and fancy parties for the first time. Mingyu was barely a teenager but deemed old enough to go, old enough to begin sweet-talking his father's benefactors and politician friends. "Don't be fooled. None of us actually like each other."

Mingyu had no idea why they'd gotten so dressed up to go to a party with these people if that was the case, but he'd felt too nervous to ask. 

"So... I should lie?" He asked instead, getting a nod in response. 

"These men may all be snakes, but that doesn't mean hissing at them will make any difference." 

Despite the lying and the secrecy, Mingyu was glad for the ability he did have. It might not be as advantageous, but at least it was something he could stomach. He didn't like watching his father work, watching people fawn over him without knowing why, or agreeing to things that they didn't want without stopping to question it. He didn't think his father was a bad man, but growing up with him had been hard. Having his free will pulled out from under his feet for misbehaving--or for behaving at all in a way that his father didn't like--had always made Mingyu feel sick. He knew now though, what it felt like to be made to act against his will. He’d learned to sense it. It was a lightheaded feeling, a slight nag in the back of his head that something was wrong, something he'd learned to pay attention to instead of ignore.

All of this had his thoughts straying to Jihoon again. His thoughts often strayed to Jihoon, but this time it was in a bad way, in a way he didn't like. It made him feel sick to his stomach and he swallowed, lying back on a weight bench and resolving to get himself so exhausted that he couldn't think much at all. 

_**06** _

It took two hours total to get in and out of the emergency room. Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Seokmin had been made to sit in the waiting room while Jeonghan was whisked away to get x-rays done. As he’d thought, the pointer and middle fingers on his right hand were fractured. Thankfully, on both of the fingers the fractures were relatively stable, according to the doctor; there wasn’t much to be done except to fit him for a splint and take something for pain. He should be all healed up in four to six weeks, and the pain should stop before then. 

Jeonghan walked out to rejoin his friends, raising his injured hand in greeting as he approached so they could all see the splint. It was a thick and clumsy device made of blue foam and silver metal, and Jeonghan kind of already hated it, but it would have to do. 

He knew, as soon as he saw Wonwoo’s face, what the first words out of his friend’s mouth would be. He didn’t want to hear them, but he couldn’t really do much to stop them either. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know you are.” Jeonghan let himself sigh, putting an arm around Wonwoo as they began to leave the hospital. 

“I said I wasn’t going to be someone that sent you to the hospital, Jeonghan.” 

_Oh._ Those words did hurt, just a bit. Jeonghan wanted to tell Wonwoo that it wasn’t his fault, but knew that he couldn’t; it wasn’t true, and Wonwoo wouldn’t believe him if he did. He needed Wonwoo to believe him when he spoke. 

“I’m not mad. I don’t blame you.” He gave Wonwoo’s waist a squeeze. “Besides, you can help me with my physical therapy when I’m all better.” He took his arm from around Wonwoo to show what he meant, holding his uninjured pointer finger in front of his friend’s face and curling it in and out. It was an exercise he’d have to do once his fingers were healed, something to help if his joints got stiff and his muscles got weaker. He tried to make it funny, tried to lighten the mood, giggling at the silly motion as he showed it to Seokmin and Jihoon too. Nobody seemed in the mood for laughing. Jihoon gave him a look, tilting his eyebrows as he looked at Jeonghan, but Seokmin’s face was serious and his mind seemed far away. 

“What happened?” He finally asked, and all of them turned to look at him. He’d stopped walking, a frown on his face. “What just happened?” 

“What do you mean?” Jeonghan asked back. 

“I just… I don’t get it.” He said. “We were all there, we all saw it… Wonwoo, you barely touched Jeonghan’s hand. He shouldn’t be so hurt. You’re strong, but you don’t hit that hard.” 

Jeonghan really, really didn’t want to do this right now. He wanted to go home. He wanted to answer texts he knew were from Seungcheol, his phone buzzing in his pocket. His fingers were throbbing. 

“We all know Mingyu is infuriating enough to make people want to break things.” He said, when it had been a moment and Wonwoo hadn’t answered. He made a small, dismissive noise, trying to act nonchalant, trying to ease Seokmin’s mind so they could move on. 

“Jeonghan, don’t do that.” Wonwoo said. 

“Do what?” 

“Don’t try to cover for me.” 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s still Mingyu’s fault.” Jihoon said dryly, but none of them laughed. Seokmin was still looking at Wonwoo, Jeonghan turning to look at him too. Wonwoo was looking at his hands. 

“I can’t control my ability anymore.” He confessed. They stood in silence for a moment, and a heartbeat later it was like a dam inside of Wonwoo had broken, words spilling out of him in a rush. “It--ever since what happened with Mingyu, I’ve just been--I can’t do anything anymore. I break things all the time, I… I almost broke his neck, and now I’m always scared that I’ll hurt someone else, and now--” 

He gestured to Jeonghan again, and despite how erratic the movement was and how emotional Wonwoo looked, Jeonghan didn’t shrink back or dodge out of the way. Thankfully, Wonwoo didn’t hit him, but Jeonghan wouldn’t have minded if he did. Well no, he would have minded, but he was trying very hard to make a point. The emergency room was right behind them, anyway; it wouldn’t be far to just turn around and walk back. 

Jeonghan not flinching completely cut Wonwoo off. He met Jeonghan’s eyes, simply staring at him, and Jeonghan looked back. Wonwoo looked so upset, scared and distraught and conflicted, and all at once, a part of Jeonghan wanted to cry. 

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” Wonwoo asked him. “You should be.” 

“Because you’re my friend, and I love you.” He answered, making sure he held Wonwoo’s gaze as he said it. He needed Wonwoo to hear him. He stepped forwards to hug him, and Wonwoo stepped back, and Jeonghan was ready to actually get angry at Wonwoo’s stubborn self-deprecation when a muffled, whimper sort of noise stopped them. 

Wonwoo’s arms were suddenly very full of a very emotional Seokmin, Wonwoo having to stumble backwards a few paces to avoid overbalancing and falling down. Wonwoo looked completely bewildered, and Jeonghan almost laughed. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jihoon asked. “Why did you only tell Jeonghan, and not the rest of us?” 

“I’m sorry--” Wonwoo started, but Jihoon waved him off. He didn’t sound accusatory; he was serious, practical. He was beginning to talk with his hands, something he always did when he was trying genuinely to explain something.

“I’ve just--I’ve read some books about stress, how it can alter abilities.” He said. “I don’t really remember the titles right now, I’ll have to look, but…” Jihoon gave Wonwoo an up and down. “I think they might help.” 

Wonwoo had his arms around Seokmin, and was gently rubbing his back. Jeonghan remembered his own failed hug with Wonwoo, wondering why he hadn’t considered simply throwing himself into Wonwoo’s arms. He’d have to remember that one. 

Jihoon began explaining a few of the things he could recall from the book he’d read as the four of them started walking away, something about the impact of fear and how it affected the control of voluntary physical abilities. They were about halfway back to Wonwoo’s house when Wonwoo stopped walking. 

“Why… Why do you want to help me?” He asked. 

“...Are you stupid?” Jihoon asked back, and Jeonghan couldn’t help a laugh. “Did you really think we wouldn’t want to be around you anymore because you got into a fight?”

Wonwoo didn’t answer, which was answer enough. 

“It was scary.” Seokmin admitted, sounding like he was speaking carefully. “But you didn’t mean to do it. And you were defending Jihoon from Mingyu, anyway.” 

“I don’t need to be defended.” Jihoon cut in quickly. “But you did punch him into next week, which makes you my hero.”

Jeonghan knew Jihoon didn’t really mean that but he didn’t say anything, simply putting an arm around Jihoon instead. Jihoon let him do it. 

“If we work together, we can do anything, right?” Seokmin asked. He said the words like they were a well used phrase among their group. They weren’t, but Jeonghan didn’t comment on that either, content to let Seokmin do the encouraging. “You can get your ability under control. We can help you. It’ll all be okay, right?” 

Wonwoo didn’t look entirely convinced, and Jeonghan didn’t blame him, but he nodded anyway, and that was the important part. Jeonghan hoped this was the push that Wonwoo needed, the support he could use to get himself out of the pit of fear he’d fallen into. 

Jihoon invited all of them to his apartment--presumably to find those books--but Jeonghan declined, saying he wanted to go home. Nobody fought him on it, and as soon as he’d turned the corner he pulled his phone from his pocket. 

He had five text messages and one missed call from his boyfriend. Two of the texts were asking if he was okay, one was asking if he could come over, one was _I love you,_ and the last was a string of hearts. Jeonghan kept his responses short. 

_Yes. Yes. No. I love you too._

He showered once he’d made it home, taking more pain medication and curling up on his couch. Seungcheol still hadn’t answered any of the messages he’d sent back, so Jeonghan called him. 

“How are you? Are you okay?” Seungcheol’s first questions for him were full of concern. Jeonghan hummed a little as he thought of how to answer. He felt fine. His fingers were stiff and the cast was annoying, but the pain medication was doing its job. 

“I’m okay. It’s nothing too serious.”

“I can come over then?” 

“Always.” Jeonghan answered automatically. Then he had to backtrack. “Wait, no. No. You can’t. You’d better not.” 

“Why?” There was a pout in Seungcheol’s voice, which told Jeonghan that he knew exactly why.

“If you try to come over, I’ll lock you out. You’ll just be sitting outside my apartment in the dark.”

“No, that’s not fair. I want to see you.”

“Then I’ll send you a picture.” Jeonghan slumped further on the couch. He really missed Seungcheol now that they were talking about this, now that he knew he couldn’t see him, but he had to stay strong. “You know why you can’t come over. If you suddenly have broken fingers and I suddenly don’t, everyone is going to know what happened.”

“It doesn’t need to mean anything.” Seungcheol countered. “We used to be friends. That’ll be an excuse enough for Mingyu and Soonyoung.” 

“Well, I’m not going to let you break your fingers because of me.” Jeonghan said. That was what he really cared about. “You’re not going to do that to yourself.”

“What if I promise that I won’t do it?” Seungcheol asked. 

“It’s still a no.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you.” 

“You don’t?”

“You not using your ability on me? I trust you as far as I can throw you.”

“You can’t even pick me up, though.”

“Yeah. I know.” 

Seungcheol began to laugh, the sound of it putting a smile on Jeonghan’s face. He hauled himself up off the couch, making his way slowly to his bedroom and pulling one of Seungcheol’s hoodies from his closet, tugging it on. He considered going back to the couch but it felt too far away, collapsing in bed instead. 

“I really am okay.” He said, keeping his tone serious, his voice soft, wanting Seungcheol to believe him. “You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“I’m supposed to worry about you.”

“You’re supposed to love me. You don’t have to do anything else.” 

“Worrying is a part of love.” Seungcheol said. Then, “Speaking of which, is Wonwoo okay?”

Jeonghan didn’t know if Seungcheol meant “speaking of worrying” or “speaking of love”, but both options were sweet. 

“Not really, but I think he will be.” Jeonghan rolled onto his stomach, pushing his upper body up onto his elbows. “He’s been afraid after what he did to Mingyu, and it’s had a really negative effect on his ability. It’s manifesting more because of the stress, but he’s scared, so his control is worse. He didn’t mean to hit me.” 

“Oh.” Seungcheol was quiet for a moment. “It would probably be easier for him if Mingyu could just keep his mouth closed and his head down, huh.” 

“That would make everything easier for everybody.” Jeonghan said, and Seungcheol laughed. “He really can’t let us walk by, can he?”

“You can’t pretend your friends aren’t part of the problem.” Seungcheol countered defensively. “You can’t pretend that Jihoon doesn’t make everything worse. He was the one that threw out the fighting words tonight.” 

“Okay, fine.” That was true. Jeonghan let out a long sigh, rolling onto his back again. “We should just shove them into each other. Lock them in a small room for an hour and let them just get it over with.” 

“They can’t be left alone.” Seungcheol said. “Jihoon would kill Mingyu.” 

“They’d be on each other in the first ten minutes, that’s for sure.” Jeonghan agreed. “But they’d either be strangling each other or ripping each other’s clothes off, and I know which one they’d enjoy more.” 

Seungcheol made a noise that sounded like he was choking on his own tongue.

“You--seriously? You think so?” 

“Oh, come on.” Jeonghan complained. “You can’t look back on the way they used to act and try to tell me that they weren’t into each other. They were so into each other that it was stupid.” 

The eight of them--Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Jihoon, Seokmin, Mingyu, and Seungkwan--had all gone to the same extremely expensive high school together. Jeonghan hadn’t had any friends his first year, joining the school’s music club his second year in an attempt to remedy that. That was where he’d met Seokmin and Jihoon, boys in the same grade that had bonded quite closely in a short amount of time over their mutual passion for music. Jeonghan had been able to bond with Jihoon over the both of them being at the school on a scholarship. Seokmin was incredibly well off, and had an incredibly well off group of friends, which was how Jeonghan had met the rest of them. 

He’d worked hard to make all of them like him first, molding them to treat him the way he wanted. He got close with all of them, also looping in a lonely looking boy named Wonwoo to join their friend group as well. Wonwoo wasn’t extremely rich or there on a scholarship, but he matched the level of idiocy of their group well; he was more able to call them out if they were being too stupid, but was willing enough to play along if he was having fun. Once they all felt unified, Jeonghan had set his sights on Seungcheol with a bit more purpose. With Jihoon and Mingyu though, there had been no waiting. 

It had been light teasing at first, Mingyu calling Jihoon small, Jihoon calling Mingyu big and stupid and clumsy. Then it was compliments, because Mingyu loved how small Jihoon was, carrying him around through the halls of the school, running him around and spinning him until Jihoon was gripping tight to his neck and giggling into his ear. And Jihoon loved it too, something that he would never admit, but everyone could see it was obvious; he loved being held, loved being carried, loved having all of Mingyu’s attention on him. 

They were annoying too, because they always had to be touching; Jihoon always had to have Mingyu wrapped around his shoulders or his waist, and Mingyu would come up to Jihoon just to poke him, just to provoke him until they had a full wrestling match going on in the middle of the floor while the rest of the group was trying to have a conversation. Any excuse to touch each other was used until it barely counted as an excuse anymore. 

“I guess you’re right.” Seungcheol conceded. 

“Guess? I know.” Jeonghan had asked Jihoon a couple of times over the years when he was going to do something about his feelings for Mingyu, when they were going to just get over themselves and finally kiss. Jihoon’s first response had been that he didn’t have any feelings for Mingyu except annoyance. Jihoon’s second response had been that he didn’t think Mingyu liked him back. Jihoon’s third response had been “I don’t know. Soon, maybe. I’ve been writing him a song.” Jeonghan hadn’t ever found out what that song was.

Mingyu and Jihoon liked to pester each other, liked to prank each other. It was always little things, things they would both laugh about. The longer they knew each other though, the more of a need Jihoon seemed to have to get at Mingyu, often enlisting in help to pull something off. Jeonghan loved to help, loved to be privy to Jihoon’s plans, and as long as Mingyu laughed once the trick had been revealed, then it was fine. 

One day, in Jeonghan’s last year of school, Jihoon had a big prank to pull off. Mingyu was frustrating him, so obviously so that the rest of the group had noticed, and Jihoon came to Jeonghan with the idea to put a thought in Mingyu’s head. Payback for all the time Mingyu spent in Jihoon’s own head--Jihoon wanted to give Mingyu the thought that he was in love with one of their teachers. 

Jeonghan found the idea hilarious. They’d pranked a couple of their friends using Jihoon’s ability before, and it had definitely been fun then. Jeonghan had always been too focused on the one being pranked in those times though, not realizing that Mingyu was never laughing along. 

“I miss those days, sometimes.” Seungcheol said. “It was fun when all of us were together. Before, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jeonghan agreed. Despite the time that had passed and the harsh words that had been exchanged, he still loved Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Seungkwan. He couldn’t help it. “Before.” 

Mingyu hadn’t found the prank funny. Jeonghan hadn’t been able to keep a straight face while it was happening, watching Mingyu fawn and blush, get wide-eyed and stammer over his words. The effect of Jihoon’s projection had lasted for a couple of hours, all of them getting to see smitten Mingyu trying and failing to approach their horribly confused and slightly disturbed fifty-six year old history professor. 

It had worn off by lunch. It seemed very sudden, but Wonwoo had been watching Mingyu’s face while they’d been eating and had told Jeonghan later that it hadn’t been; Mingyu wasn’t touching his food, his facial expression growing more present, going from aware to angry. Then he’d been on his feet with a roar.

All of it had happened very fast. Mingyu was lunging in Jihoon’s direction, his eyes wild, everything about his movements clumsy and disoriented. Jeonghan had done the only thing he could think to do, turning the lights completely off in Mingyu’s eyes, leaving him stumbling and swiping blindly. Mingyu simply began yelling curses, not stopping his attempts even as Wonwoo held him back, and Mingyu had been suspended from school for foul language, as well as for trying to start a fight. According to Seungcheol and Soonyoung, he’d been very harshly reprimanded at home as well, and when he’d come back a week later, he had a bit of a blank look in his eyes, and hadn’t wanted to talk to them. It was like he couldn’t look at Jihoon without getting angry, and he’d lumped Jeonghan and Wonwoo on Jihoon’s side for interfering, Seokmin also placed there when he proposed that they just forget the whole thing and move on. The group had fractured badly after that.

“Everything was so new back then.” Seungcheol said, Jeonghan having to smile a bit at the nostalgic tone to his voice. 

“You were falling in love with me.” Jeonghan told him, trying to tease, but Seungcheol just laughed. 

“Yeah, I was.” 

“Hm. I was falling in love with you too.” 

Thanks to what had happened, Jeonghan had begun staying away from Seungcheol while at school. He knew, at that point, that he really liked Seungcheol. He knew that Seungcheol liked him too, but he also knew that Seungcheol had to spend a lot of his extra time with Mingyu, that Mingyu was one of the few people that kept him sane when he had to go to fancy business people meetings, and he didn’t want to be a person that stood in the way of their relationship. Jeonghan was worried that Mingyu would see any association Seungcheol had with him as a betrayal.

Seungcheol had gone to him anyway, catching him alone and asking him out. Jeonghan had said yes because he wanted Seungcheol too badly to say no, but the animosity between the two groups had grown--Jihoon had begun snapping back when Mingyu was rude to him, both of them saying things that Jeonghan knew they didn’t mean, but couldn’t really take back--so they’d begun dating in secret. 

“I am in love with you.” Seungcheol said. Jeonghan had heard it plenty of times, but there was something about Seungcheol’s voice--or something about the amount of painkillers that Jeonghan had in him--that had Jeonghan sighing, rolling on his side and holding his phone to his ear like it was something precious. It had been fun, having all of those firsts with Seungcheol, and things had just gotten better. 

“It is a lot harder to sneak off with you and make out in the supply closet now that we’re not in school anymore.” Jeonghan said, and Seungcheol began to laugh. “We’re adults. I think we might get arrested if we try that again now.” 

“Naked and in a place we definitely shouldn’t be is not the way I want my friends to find out about us.” Seungcheol said, Jeonghan letting out a fake scandalized gasp that he was a little too tired to put enough energy behind. 

“Who said anything about being naked?” He asked. “I was just talking about kissing. But if you really think we need to spice things up…”

“No!” Seungcheol exclaimed through laughs, and Jeonghan began to laugh back. “No, no.” 

“Fine then.” Jeonghan was ready to go to sleep, debating on whether he was going to try to find a way for the conversation to end, or if he wanted to drift off listening to Seungcheol’s voice. “What are you doing?”

“Well, you called me just as I got out of the shower, so I’m kind of just sitting in my bedroom in a towel.” Seungcheol told him, and though he knew Seungcheol couldn’t see him, Jeonghan raised an eyebrow.

“You should send me a picture.” 

“What?” 

“I want to see you in a towel.” 

“You’ve seen me in a towel a ton of times.”

“And? I want to see it again.” 

Seungcheol was laughing again. “You’re awful.” He teased, and Jeonghan put a whine in his voice.

“Come on, I can’t touch you for the next four weeks because of your stupid, self-sacrificing tendencies. What else am I supposed to do?” 

There was some muttering that Jeonghan couldn’t quite make out, then Seungcheol ended the call. Jeonghan grinned and held his phone loosely in his hand, waiting. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, he received a picture; Seungcheol was standing in front of a full-length mirror in his room, a white towel wrapped low around his hips, Jeonghan able to see the slight jut of his hip bones, his stomach and his broad chest. He was holding his phone in a way that covered half of his face, his dark hair still damp and messy, his eyes on his phone screen instead of the mirror. His lips were dark, as though he’d been biting at them before the picture was taken, but now they were slightly parted, and though Jeonghan had asked for this--and was very much enjoying it--he was a little frustrated now, too. 

So he sat up in bed, positioning himself in the mirror on his bedroom door, looking at it from the side. He only had on underwear, a tank top, and Seungcheol’s hoodie, so he wriggled out of the tank top and kicked the underwear off, sitting up straight with his legs bent, the tops of his feet down against the sheets, moved slightly to the sides instead of being directly under him. He pulled the hoodie down in the front but let it ride high up his thighs behind him, letting his head tilt back a little and letting his lips part. Then he took a picture too.

Seungcheol’s response took a couple of minutes. 

_You’re going to be the death of me._ Then, _That’s mine._

_The sweater?_ Jeonghan sent back. _It’s keeping me nice and warm._

Then, because he couldn’t help himself, _Everything inside the sweater is yours, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'know at first I was a bit worried that jeongcheol sending each other sexy pics would be too ooc but then my sister reminded me that svt literally have nudes competitions in their group chat and I was like you're right never mind


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> small reminder that any italicized dialogue between Vernon and Joshua is meant to be read as though it's spoken in english!

_**07** _

Despite his vow to find out more information, Vernon didn’t end up being able to get much by looking up the names “Mingyu” or “Wonwoo” on the internet. “Wonwoo” got him absolutely nothing that seemed important, and the only relevant “Mingyu” he found was Kim Mingyu, the very rich son of a very rich business man that, from what Vernon could tell, had been close to Legislator Kwon. 

That didn’t really seem like it mattered, though. It could just be a coincidence. These two people could be literally anybody, and Vernon combed through the recording as much as he could the day after they’d gotten it, trying to pick up anything in the background, any hints at location, anything familiar. He pulled a notebook out, transcribing the voicemail the best he could, writing anything he found about Kim Mingyu that seemed like it might be useful. Chan, more or less, had just left him down in the basement with the grey phone, and Joshua had watched him for a while from across the room, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed.

_“You like, need to chill.”_ He finally said. _“It’s gonna be okay."_

“You don’t know that.” Vernon responded. 

“Even if you find these people, and tell them… What is that going to do?” Joshua asked. “You won’t be able to do anything.”

Vernon didn’t have an answer to that. He didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish by finding Mingyu and Wonwoo, he knew just that his conscience wouldn’t let him leave the issue alone. Now that he knew what the voicemails were and what the voicemails meant, it was impossible to just sit by and let time pass. To just let the events of the voicemail happen without trying to do anything.

Joshua sighed, getting to his feet. The cut he’d had across the side of his face had diminished into a scab, coming off in parts and leaving pink, slightly pinched skin behind. It would scar, but only for a little while; the injury was thin enough that it would fade in a few years’ time, and he had gotten some kind of face cream after a doctor’s visit that was supposed to help lighten it. Vernon traced the line of it with his eyes as Joshua sat down next to him, looping an arm around him and resting his chin on Vernon’s shoulder. 

“You need to do something else.” Joshua told him. “Do something to get your mind off this.” 

Joshua was very close. And Joshua was very pretty up close, his eyes big and dark, his lips pink and curled slightly upwards at the ends. He had two moles that went down his right cheek, the line of them tilting inwards towards his nose.

“What should we do, then?” Vernon asked. 

“Whatever you want.” 

Vernon frowned. It was a little difficult to think, a little difficult to focus when Joshua was so close to him. 

“Do you want to play video games or something?” 

Joshua blinked at him for a moment, then let out a resigned sigh and let Vernon go, flopping against the back of the couch. 

“Is that what you want to do?” He asked back. “Play video games?” 

“I mean… Sure?” 

So they did. They played video games, Joshua trying very hard to cheat, so focused on tickling Vernon or trying to distract him or blocking his view of the screen that he ended up losing anyway, just from not paying attention to the game. It was still funny though, and it got Vernon to laugh, grateful over and over again as the afternoon wore on that Joshua was his best friend.

When it was time to pack up and go home Joshua didn’t let Vernon listen to the voicemail again, insisting that it could wait until tomorrow and that he had it all memorized anyway. And that was true, but it made the impending incident nag at him, leaving him tossing and turning all night. He ended up pulling up his phone and looking more into who Kim Mingyu was: a stupidly wealthy and stupidly handsome kid that was only a year older than him. Mingyu had been suspended from his fancy boarding school for fighting back in his youth, and was as equally infamous for getting fined for causing chaos--like trespassing on private government property and trying to do stunts on his motorcycle, because of course he owned a stupidly expensive motorcycle--as he was for doing random good deeds, like donating staggering amounts to charities and volunteering as a cook at random soup kitchens around the city. Vernon ended up finding the personal number for the Kim estate on the depths of the internet, saving it to a note on his phone just in case. 

The next day, he went to Chan’s as soon as he was allowed. Chan let him in and offered him breakfast, trying to be a good host, only to collapse on a couch in the basement and fall asleep almost instantly. Vernon looked over all of the notes he’d made the day before, then pulled out the grey phone, wanting to listen to the voicemail again.

When he pressed the pound key though, nothing happened. Vernon pressed every single button the phone had, but the device just sat there in his hand, silent and still. He even popped the back off, looking at the port for the batteries, but it was empty; like Chan had said, the phone had bad damage from battery acid, a hole burned through the plastic and into the wires behind it.

The message was gone. What did that mean? Where did it go? The unanswered questions were sending Vernon into a bit of a panic and he pulled out his own cell phone. Before he could talk himself out of it, he called the Kim estate. 

A woman answered the phone. 

“Hello? How can I help you?”

“I need to talk to Kim Mingyu.” Vernon said. He had no idea what he was doing, but he was a little too freaked out not to do it. 

“I’m sorry, he’s not--” The woman paused in the middle of her polite declination, and Vernon braced himself for what he was about to hear; that Mingyu was in the hospital. That Mingyu’s funeral was being planned. Instead, when she spoke again, the phone sounded like it was angled away from her mouth, and she definitely wasn’t addressing him. “Oh, you’re here. Someone’s on the phone for you.” 

“Who?” came a voice, surprise vibrating its way through Vernon’s chest, because that was the voice, the same voice from the voicemail on the grey phone. This was Mingyu.

“I don’t know.” The woman answered. “It sounds like it could be one of your friends.”

There was a bit of a shuffle as the receiver was passed, and the next thing Vernon heard was Mingyu’s voice, loud and slightly confused in his ear. 

“Hello? Who is this?” 

“I think you’re in danger.” Vernon said. “I don’t know--you might get hurt or, or killed, I--”

“Who is this?” The man--Mingyu--asked again. “What is this?” 

Vernon didn’t know what to say. Should he give his name? Did he have to start from the beginning? If he started to talk about time traveling voicemails recorded on broken phones, how quickly would it take for Mingyu to hang up on him? 

He didn’t end up needing to say anything; before he really had time to think about it, Mingyu hung up on him anyway. Well. So much for being taken seriously. 

Chan had been woken up by his frantic phone call, starting to shift into a sitting position. He looked at Vernon, disgruntled and confused. 

“Who were you just talking to?”

“Uh…” Vernon tapped his notebook with his pen, giving the “i” on Mingyu’s name a few extra dots. He couldn’t hold in a wince. “Kim Mingyu.”

Chan’s eyes went wide. 

“Kim Mingyu? Like…” Chan pointed at the ceiling. Vernon had no idea what that gesture was supposed to convey, but he got the gist anyway, and nodded. That just made Chan’s eyes go wider. “You think he’s the same Mingyu as the one in the voicemail?”

“Their voices sounded the same.” Vernon said. “I think they are.” 

“Could Wonwoo be that guy that hates him?” Chan asked. He was starting to get excited, talking faster, half rising from his seat. “Who was the third person?” 

“I don’t know!” Vernon told him. “I didn’t really get to talk much, so I didn’t ask him any questions. He hung up on me.” 

“Well, let’s listen to the voicemail again.” Chan proposed. “Maybe now that we know that it’s him, we’ll be able to pick up on more things.” 

“That’s the thing.” Vernon said hesitantly. “The voicemail… It’s gone.” 

Vernon had already made them all promise to meet up and discuss the voicemail, so it wasn’t until they were all at Chan’s that they really talked about it. 

“I mean, it makes sense that they disappear.” Junhui said, once Vernon had caught them all up. 

“It does?” Vernon asked. 

“They always disappear from the pink phone, don’t they?” Junhui asked back. He pointed to the phone while he spoke. “That’s why it’s not lit up anymore. They stay for a couple of days and then they’re gone, right?” 

“I… Yeah, I guess.” Chan said, speaking slowly, his face thoughtful. “I mean, they always stay for a little while, though. The one about Joshua was on the phone for nearly a week.”

Joshua made a small noise of realization, sitting up a bit straighter, everyone turning to him. 

“What?” Junhui asked. 

“A week. That’s how long it was.” Joshua said. “Between hearing the voicemail about me, and then this happening.” At “this”, he traced the line of his injury down his face. 

“They disappear once the event has passed.” Minghao concluded, Joshua nodding along, and a weight fell into Vernon’s stomach. 

“So, it already happened?” He asked. “Whoever it was that was supposed to hurt Mingyu, that guy that hates him… Already did it?” 

“Hey, isn’t that a good thing?” Joshua asked, nudging Vernon with his elbow. Vernon had no idea why that would be good, giving Joshua a questioning glance. 

“Someone got hurt.” He said, and Joshua smiled a little.

“No, I know that. I just mean--you talked to him, right? You talked to Kim Mingyu. And he sounded okay. That means that whatever it was, whatever injury he’s supposed to have, it wasn’t that bad. He’s alive, and he’s not in the hospital. It was probably just like what happened to me.” Joshua shrugged. Vernon wished Joshua would stop passing off what happened to him as “not that bad”, because the fear he’d felt still put that day near the top of Vernon’s “Five Worst Days of My Life” list. Joshua reached over and picked the grey cell phone up. “I know it’s freaky, but this phone isn’t a death sentence.” 

“Shua--” Chan started, but before he could get any further, the grey phone rang in his hand. 

Vernon resisted the very strong urge to curse. Joshua looked a bit irked--the awful timing made his attempt at reassurance feel extremely hollow to everyone’s ears--and he didn’t let the phone ring for long, picking it up and putting it to his ear. 

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to answer the phone like a normal person would, sitting there and listening instead. They didn’t need to be told that nobody was on the other line, but Joshua told them so anyway.

“This is going to be nothing, alright?” He said, then pushed the button to hear the message. 

The first thing they heard was sobbing. Heavy, awful sobbing, breath leaving the person in heaving gasps, the sound of it absolutely heart wrenching. Vernon closed his eyes. He didn’t want to listen to this. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” The words were weak. For a moment, Vernon thought Junhui was trying to comfort him, and while the voice was Junhui’s, it was too close; Vernon looked up and saw Junhui standing where he had been before, behind the chair that Minghao was sitting in, all the way across the room from Vernon. Junhui’s mouth was closed, the words instead coming from the grey phone. He was speaking in the voicemail, trying to comfort whoever was sobbing, too faint to truly be reassuring. “It’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The sobs had turned into speech, thick and partially muffled, choked and painful. The words were hard to make out, hard to understand, and Vernon didn’t realize until he saw Minghao’s eyes widen from where he was sitting that it was Minghao’s voice they were hearing. Vernon’s stomach twisted with anxiety. Minghao continued to speak in the voicemail, continued to whimper, but he was covered up by someone else’s voice, a stranger’s voice. 

“I can’t--it’s not working.” It was a man and he sounded desperate, his voice strained like he was having a difficult time breathing. “I don’t know why it’s not working.”

“It doesn’t… Junhui doesn’t work like that.” Those words were said by Joshua, and he sounded awful too, cut off from saying anything else by another stranger, their voice strangled and distressed. 

“Seungcheol, please, don’t--please, you’re going to kill yourself--you need to stop. You’re too hurt. He’s too hurt.” 

“Seokmin, let me _go!”_ came a shout from the background, sounding wild and raw. Vernon’s stomach was winding itself into knots and he felt nauseated, goosebumps up his arms and sweat on the back of his neck, wanting nothing more than for the voicemail to end. Joshua and Junhui and Minghao were all in it, and they all sounded like they were dying. Vernon glanced over at Chan, the only one of his friends that seemed safe, but Chan’s expression was fragile and sick with fear.

Minghao’s voice came back and he was whispering something, something in Mandarin that Vernon couldn’t decipher. He sounded absolutely broken, wretched and inconsolable. Junhui responded, also in Mandarin, his voice so soft and faltering that it almost wasn’t audible. Then the voicemail cut off completely. 

“What was that?” Chan asked, once they’d sat there in silence for a moment. His voice was quivering. He was looking at Junhui and Minghao. “What did you two say to each other?” 

“Minghao… Minghao said ‘I’m sorry, and I love you’.” Junhui translated. He was looking down at his boyfriend. Minghao had tears down his face, holding a fist up and wiping at his cheeks, leaving it up by his mouth as he answered the rest of Chan’s question.

“Junhui said that he forgave me, and that he loved me too.” 

Vernon wanted to throw up. They all watched as Minghao pulled his legs up on the chair, his knees to his chest, ducked his head, and fully began to cry. Junhui hurried around to the front of the chair and dropped to his knees, putting his hands on the armrests instead of touching Minghao. He asked a question too quiet for Vernon to hear, and Minghao shook his head violently. 

This continued for a little while, Junhui speaking softly and Minghao responding with only nonverbal cues. Vernon watched, trying to pick up on any of it, distracted after a few minutes by Joshua getting to his feet. Joshua walked over to Chan, and Vernon hadn’t realized it but Chan was still frightened, that wide-eyed expression still on his face. Joshua kept one arm wrapped around Chan, leading him back to the couch and sitting him down. With his free arm Joshua found Vernon’s hand again and held on tight. 

Minghao’s distress was getting more and more audible until finally he spoke, his voice breaking, his words loud and scared and scathing. 

“Why would you be ‘forgiving’ me if it wasn’t my fault?!” 

Junhui went silent, reaching for Minghao instead, but Minghao scrambled backwards out of the chair and completely crossed the room. His eyes were wide and full of tears, looking like a cornered animal. 

“It’ll be okay.” Vernon said, because he couldn’t stand the look on Minghao’s face, because he didn’t know what else could be said, despite the warning squeeze of Joshua’s hand. Minghao’s eyes flashed to him, going from terrified to angry. 

“You don’t know that.” He said. “Don’t say that if it isn’t true.” 

“We’ll make it true.” Vernon said. “We’ll change what happens. We’ll fix it.”

Minghao was shaking his head. Tears were still flowing freely down his face, his eyes red, his gaze sharp with pain. 

“We can’t.” He said. “Time doesn’t just--the future can’t just be changed like that.” His eyes locked on Junhui’s, his voice quieter. “I’m going to kill you.” He said, and he sounded horrified. 

“You don’t know that.” Joshua said softly. “We don’t know what the voicemails mean. Chan thought he was going to kill me, but all I got was a scratch.” 

Vernon understood what Joshua was trying to say, what he was trying to convey with his example, but the two incidents felt too different to be comparable. In the voicemail about Joshua, Chan had been apologizing to Joshua like he’d messed something up, all of them so afraid of what was happening because they hadn’t known that they didn’t have to be. In this voicemail, Minghao didn’t just sound sorry; he sounded like he was already sick with grief. 

Minghao just shook his head a few more times, wiping at his face, though the action didn’t do anything to stop his tears. 

“I need to--I can’t--” He started and cut himself off two more times before just shaking his head, saying something in Mandarin that Vernon didn’t understand and leaving the room. Junhui followed quickly after him. 

Despite not wanting to, Vernon picked the grey cell phone up. 

“Can I listen to it again?” He asked. Chan looked at him like he’d completely lost his mind, getting unsteadily to his feet. 

“I don’t want to hear it again.” He said, also leaving the room. Vernon sent a questioning look to Joshua, who just looked back for a long moment before glancing away.

“Play it.” 

Vernon did. He tried, this time, to pay attention to names, the names of the strangers that he didn’t know. He transcribed this voicemail in the same way that he’d transcribed the last one, and wrote down both “Seungcheol” and “Seokmin”. Seokmin didn’t seem extremely relevant to the situation at hand, something just shouted in the background, but Seungcheol was someone close, someone trying to do something to Junhui--trying to help, presumably--that Joshua actually said words to. 

There was also a strange background sound, something familiar and ambient about it, but Vernon couldn’t think of what it was. He turned to ask Joshua, but Joshua was immersed in his phone screen, resting his elbows on his knees as he scrolled. 

“There’s a Choi Seungcheol.” He said, before Vernon could ask what he was looking at. “He’s rich, a businessman’s son, and…"

“He’s friends with Kim Mingyu?” Vernon guessed. Joshua nodded, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. 

“Friends with Kim Mingyu.” He repeated. _“Who are these guys?”_

“I don’t know, but I think we need to find out.” Vernon said, writing that down too. There was a decent amount of information on who Choi Seungcheol was, and though they weren’t even sure that he was the right Seungcheol, Vernon still wrote a lot of it down just in case.

There were a few Seokmins that seemed like they could be relevant, attributing a few different last names and a few addresses to him. None of them seemed to fit, though. Vernon and Joshua listened through the voicemail a couple more times as they did their research, Vernon listening hard to the strangers’ voices that they didn’t have names for, but they didn’t sound familiar to him. He was still stuck on the background sounds, about to play it again when Joshua’s hand covered his own. 

“Don’t.” He begged. “Please don’t. I can’t listen to it anymore.” 

Vernon set the phone down, then let his body fall against the back of the couch. “I hate this.” He said after a moment.

“It’s not great.” Joshua agreed, flopping down next to him. 

“Ever since these stupid phones started ringing, things have just been…” He didn’t know how to vocalize his feelings. He knew he didn’t really have to, since he was talking to Joshua, so he only tried a little before giving up. “I hate it.” He said again instead.

“The voicemails aren’t so bad.” Joshua said after a moment. He turned his head to look at Vernon. “Like… As a concept. It’s just the content that’s so horrible.” 

Vernon shook his head. 

“I don’t like any of it.” He said. “Any of it. I just…”

“You’re not good at just letting life happen to you.” Joshua finished. Vernon frowned at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t just accept things.” Joshua sat up straighter. “You hear the voicemail, and you feel like you have to do something. Your mind jumps to the worst conclusions, and you automatically think that you need to help.” 

“And what, that’s a bad thing?” 

“Well, no.” Joshua shrugged. “It’s good, in most ways. You’re good, and you’re kind, and I like that about you.” 

Hearing those things was nice and Vernon glanced away, Joshua continuing. 

“You’re even really easygoing in most respects. But--and especially when there’s a problem--there’s not always something you can do. Sometimes things are just the way they are.”

“Coming from the person that cheats at video games.” 

Joshua gave him a look, and Vernon heaved a sigh, getting to his feet. 

“I just don’t like it.” He said. “I wouldn’t like the phones even if they had good news, I think.”

That seemed to surprise Joshua. “Why?” 

“That’s just… It’s not how life is supposed to be. Nobody is supposed to know what happens next. It’s weird.” 

Vernon didn’t like the idea that things were predetermined for him. He didn’t like the idea that the future was just sitting there, waiting to happen, that life was just stringing him along; he didn’t like the idea that free will was just an illusion. He supposed it was different with Joshua, whether it be from the nature of his ability--he was always a step ahead of everyone else, and now with these voicemails, he was simply ahead another couple of paces--or if it was the nature of his faith, thinking that there was some grand plan. Either way, it was a way of living that Vernon couldn’t stand. 

“I always know what’s going to happen next. Chan does too.” Joshua’s voice had gone soft. “It… It’s not always great, but you get used to it.” 

“I don’t want to get used to it.” Vernon protested. He felt like a petulant child, but the idea of “getting used to it”, the idea of this being the new normal for him… “I couldn’t.” 

Joshua looked over him for a moment, his expression collapsing into something much softer, and Vernon almost couldn’t stand the look on his face.

“What?” 

“You’re scared.” He said. Vernon looked away from him, feeling the need to cross his arms. He hadn’t really felt the fear himself, too focused on the words of the voicemail, on trying to figure things out, on the distraction of his pen and his notebook. Now that Joshua said it though, it had to be acknowledged. 

“Of course I am.” He said, and Joshua let out a long breath before opening his arms. 

“Come on, come here.” 

“Shut up.” Vernon said. He wasn’t in the mood to be coddled. 

“No.” 

_“Josh, really--”_

“Fine.” Joshua let his arms fold in, then patted the space on the couch next to himself. That was something Vernon could accept, sitting down, but as soon as he did Joshua got into his lap instead, curling an arm around him and resting his head against the dip where Vernon’s neck met his shoulder. 

“Maybe I was the one that wanted to be held.” Joshua said, his tone slightly exaggerated. _“Ever think about that, tough guy?”_

_“Shut up.”_ Vernon said again, in English this time. But he didn’t really mean that, and Joshua knew it, a smile curling his lips. It wasn’t super comfortable, Joshua splayed across his lap, but Joshua didn’t want to get up and now that Vernon was holding him, Vernon didn’t really want to let him go, so instead they just made small adjustments until the both of them were comfortable, somehow still curled around each other. Joshua still had his legs thrown over Vernon’s lap, and in all of it one of Vernon’s hands had ended up on Joshua’s thigh. Joshua didn’t seem to mind so Vernon didn’t try to move it, though for some reason he couldn’t _not_ focus on it all of a sudden, on the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his pants, on the slight but firm curve of muscle.

“What?” Joshua asked, the question nearly making Vernon jump with the suddenness of it, and Vernon raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” He asked back, Joshua raising an eyebrow before tilting his head to Vernon’s hand. Right. Joshua could hear him having… Well, having thoughts about his thighs. Vernon, trying very hard to keep the heat off his face and deciding that trying to excuse anything away would just turn into a mess, just squeezed Joshua’s thigh instead. 

Joshua squawked out a protest, covering Vernon’s hand with his, and Vernon couldn’t help a laugh, letting his head fall against the back of the couch again. 

_“You’re horrible.”_ Joshua told him, also letting his head fall back. He wasn’t really resting against Vernon’s chest anymore, his back pressed more against the armrest, and because of the distance Vernon could now see his face. Joshua’s hair was very dark, his bangs just long enough to fall into his eyes. He only had two of his piercings in, a shiny stud through the upper lobe of his right ear and a hoop helix on his left ear. Vernon liked Joshua’s piercings, liked the way they would shine and catch the light and, as a result, catch his attention. There was always so much to look at when it came to Joshua.

Vernon sometimes felt like looking at Joshua was exhausting. He wanted to spend the whole day doing it.

There was a slam of the basement door that made them both jump horribly, Vernon turning his head to see Chan. Chan had begun descending the basement stairs, loud for no reason other than the fact that he didn’t have to be quiet, stuttering to a stop when he saw them. 

“I… Sorry.” He said inexplicably, looking embarrassed all of a sudden. Joshua let out a lofty sigh, taking his hand off Vernon’s, while Vernon frowned at Chan.

“Sorry?” He echoed. “What’s going on?” 

“Oh, I just… Nevermind.” Chan looked at them for a moment longer before continuing. “I wanted to know if you guys wanted to do something. Maybe like… Upstairs though?” 

His eyes flicked to the phone on the table, and Vernon understood. He and Joshua were still welcome to hang out with him, welcome to stay at his house as long as they wanted, but Chan didn’t really want to be in the same room as the grey phone right now. 

“Do I finally get to clean your room?” Joshua asked, getting up off Vernon’s legs and starting for the stairs. Chan whined out a protest and Vernon laughed, the three of them making their way to Chan’s kitchen. They ended up staying for dinner and watching a movie together, and by the time the movie was over it had grown very late. 

“Has anyone heard from Minghao or Junhui?” Joshua asked. Vernon shook his head, and Chan shook his head too. 

“Do you want me to call someone?” Vernon offered, but after a moment of contemplation, Joshua declined. 

“They might want space, or time, or something.” He said, Chan nodding in agreement. “We’ll definitely talk to them tomorrow, though.” 

Chan asked them if they wanted to stay the night, thanks to how close to midnight it was, and after Joshua took him up on the offer, Vernon did too. It felt kind of weird to not be in Chan’s basement, so they decided to spend the night down there, moving the tables from the middle of the room and laying down pillows and blankets. 

“You okay?” Vernon asked. He was lying next to Joshua, the only light in the room a weird, orange-green glow coming from the two lava lamps high on the shelves on the far wall. 

“What do you mean?” 

“...what?” Vernon glanced over to see that Joshua had rolled to face him. He’d found the question to be relatively straightforward. Joshua simply blinked at him though, all big doe eyes, so Vernon tried again. “I wanna know how you’re, like… Feeling? And your emotions and stuff?”

Then Joshua burst into giggles, rolling onto his back, and Vernon realized he’d been played, reaching over with a sound of protest to hit Joshua. His hand connected lightly with Joshua’s chest, Joshua grabbing it and keeping it there, the back of Vernon’s hand against his sternum.

“I’m okay.” He said. “I’m… We don’t really know what the voicemail means. We don’t know what’s going to happen. And yeah, it…” His voice faltered for a moment so Vernon moved his hand a little, leaving it palm up and leaving it on Joshua’s chest but shifting it, finding one of Joshua’s hands and slotting their fingers together. Joshua let out a long breath before continuing. “It doesn’t sound great, but we already know that the voicemail isn’t a death sentence. Or at least, it doesn't have to be. So I’m going to hope for the best.” 

The words surprised Vernon a little. Joshua was more of a realist than an optimist, but Vernon tried to think of the situation realistically, and the fear that it sent through his chest was almost too much. Being optimistic might be the only way to have heard the voicemail and still function. 

“That’s good.” Vernon decided to say. Joshua gave Vernon’s hand a squeeze, but instead of letting it go, just let it rest in the space between them. Vernon didn’t mind. 

“Let’s go to sleep, alright?” Joshua said. “We’ll probably feel better in the morning.” 

“Okay.” Vernon didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, not with everything that had happened, but it was probably because of the events, because of the stress--and because of Joshua’s palm against his, a comforting weight pressing the back of his hand to the blankets beneath him, grounding him--that Vernon was out not long after his eyes were closed. 

He woke to the sounds of panicking. The basement door burst open, Chan and Junhui starting down the stairs, and Vernon heard Junhui’s voice. He was too disoriented to make out the words, but his tone sounded off, and the fact that it was Junhui that sounded so weird and wrong and scared had his chest seizing up. The noise had woken Joshua too, both of them sitting up, Vernon watching as Joshua’s eyes opened, slowly at first, then quickly going wide, his head snapping over to Chan. 

“He’s gone?” He asked. 

“Gone?” Vernon repeated. He still felt horribly groggy. “Who?” 

Nobody answered, but nobody needed to. There was only one person that could be gone; there was only one person that wasn’t there. Minghao. 

“Junhui.” Joshua’s voice was serious, serious enough to get Junhui’s attention. He looked to Joshua, and his expression was upset and scared and confused all at once. “What happened?”

“I… I went to his house yesterday. After… You know, after everything, and we talked. We talked it out, we talked about it, about what happened, and I thought…” He reached up as though to run his hands through his hair, stopping halfway through the motion and letting them just hover uselessly around his head for a moment. “I thought we’d worked it out, but, but… But maybe he was just agreeing with me to, I don’t know--” 

“To end the conversation?” Joshua guessed, and Junhui nodded. 

“I stayed the night with him, at his place. He was really quiet the whole time, but I just thought he was still upset. When I woke up, he was gone.” 

“You don’t think he just, I don’t know, went to the store or something?” Vernon asked. Instead of answering, Junhui held out a piece of paper to him. There was writing on it, writing in Mandarin, signed with nothing but a small heart. 

Vernon closed his eyes, getting only a quick flash, but it was enough: Minghao, biting hard on his bottom lip as he wrote, the small movements to make each character very deliberate. He had tears in his eyes, but they weren’t enough to spill over; he looked very drained instead, maybe as though the only reason he wasn’t crying now was because he’d already cried too much to do it anymore.

“What does it say?” Joshua asked. He was looking at the note over Vernon’s shoulder. 

Junhui said it in Mandarin first, translating to Korean afterwards. “I’m sorry, and I love you.” 

_I’m sorry, and I love you._ The words from the voicemail. The voicemail. Vernon began looking around for the grey cell phone.

“Why would he leave though?” Chan asked. “I mean, what is he going to do?” 

“He and Junhui are both in the voicemail.” Joshua pointed out. “Maybe he thinks that if they aren’t in the same place, it won’t happen?” 

“What, he’s going to stay away from me forever?” Junhui asked. “He’s just… He just abandoned everything? He didn’t even pack a bag, or, or--”

“Doesn’t he not believe in running from it, though? In trying to stop it?” Chan was frowning. “Didn’t he say that it was impossible to try and change the future?” 

“If he’s desperate enough, it might not matter what he believes.” Joshua pointed out, and Vernon did a quick turn on his heel, looking around the room again. 

“Then… Maybe we should let him?” Chan said. “I mean, I know we don’t know for sure when it was supposed to happen, but we might have delayed what happened to Joshua by not hanging out for a couple of days, you know? So maybe--”

“No.” Junhui was resolute, not even wanting to hear the idea; he almost looked angry. “If that’s what you--I’m going to go, I’m going to go look for him right now--”

“Where?” Joshua asked, cutting Junhui off before his voice could get too hysterical. “You don’t know anything about where he went, Junhui.” 

Junhui didn’t seem to care much about that fact, looking very ready to leave. But Vernon had noticed something, turning around the room for a third and final time before he spoke.

“The phone is gone.” He said. 

“What?”

“The grey cell phone. The cell phone and my notebook; they’re both gone.” 

Chan’s mouth fell open. “Do you think Minghao took them?” He asked. 

“I mean, someone took them, because they were here when we fell asleep last night.” Vernon did a couple turns around the room, feeling the need to check again now that he was saying it all out loud to his friends. “But if he did, that means he snuck in and disappeared without saying anything to any of us.” 

“What would he want with your notebook?” Junhui asked, and Vernon shrugged. 

“I mean, it had some information in it.” He said, after thinking for a moment. “Some names, and an address… I wrote out the whole voicemail in there.”

“He’s probably doing some of his own research.” Joshua said. “He’s probably trying to figure things out.” 

“Then we should go too.” Junhui said. “What was the address? What did you have written down?”

“Well, I didn’t like… Take a picture of it.” Vernon said defensively, unable to remember the specifics. Junhui had taken a few breaths and didn’t sound quite as frantic as he had when he’d burst in, but it didn’t sound like it would take much to push him back to freaking out. 

“Well, we got an address from Chan’s mom, right? We asked her if she knew Choi Seungcheol’s family.” Joshua said, pointing first to Chan, then to Vernon. That sounded about right, all of them ready to go upstairs and harass an address out of Chan’s poor mother when a phone rang. Vernon, Junhui, and Joshua all froze.

“It’s--oh, it’s your cell phone.” Chan was the only one that hadn’t gone stock still, already reaching for the table with Vernon’s cell phone on it. Vernon had to take a breath before taking it from him, frowning at the screen. It was from a private number. He sent a questioning glance around at them all and just got shrugs back, so he answered it.

“Hello?” 

“Who the hell are you?” 

Vernon didn’t know what to say; he didn’t know how to answer that. It was a man’s voice, and he sounded… Agitated. Not angry exactly, but pent up somehow. The voice was one Vernon felt like he almost recognized, something about it familiar, but he had no idea what. His heart was still racing from hearing the phone ring in the first place, so he figured he probably couldn’t focus well enough to place the voice anyway.

“...you’re the one that called me?” He finally said, his bewilderment making him unable not to phrase the sentence like a question. “Who are you?” 

“This is Kim Mingyu.” As soon as he said it, Vernon realized he was right. It was Mingyu, but he sounded a bit frantic, a bit nervous, a bit impatient. 

“Can…” Vernon felt at a loss. Joshua’s eyes went wide--he couldn’t hear what Mingyu had said, but he could hear Vernon’s thoughts--telling Junhui and Chan what was happening in a hushed whisper. “Can I help you with something?”

“Why did you call me?” Mingyu asked. “Why did you say I was in danger? What do you know?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my twitter is @sudamasochist if anyone wants to yell at me <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> additional warning in this chapter for explicit language

_**08** _

Mingyu turned on his heel as soon as he’d hung up his cell phone, slipping the device into his pocket and walking out to his bike. He had to get back to Soonyoung’s, and tell his friend that he was expecting some guests tomorrow. 

He’d tried to talk to this mystery person--this Vernon Chwe--over the phone about what was going on, but it had become very apparent very quickly that this was more of a face-to-face type of conversation. He had things that he needed to say, and things he needed to ask, and it sounded like Vernon had a lot to explain, all of which would be better to hear, discuss, and go over with all of his friends there. So instead of continuing the conversation, Mingyu had told Vernon to meet him in person. Surprisingly, Vernon had agreed, so Mingyu had given him Soonyoung’s address.

Mingyu didn’t want to keep Vernon--and Vernon’s three friends who, apparently, were a part of this too and needed to tag along--in his own home. Not for lack of space or resources, but because he didn’t want any of the strangers to come into contact with his father. 

He really could have offered up any of his friends’ houses, but he knew that if Soonyoung’s parents found out about having strangers in their house and Soonyoung said they were some of Mingyu’s friends, they would let him get away with it without any questions. Seungcheol’s parents didn’t give Mingyu the same pass that Soonyoung’s did, and while Seungkwan’s parents probably would have been nice enough to let the four strangers stay, Seungkwan’s mom always made Mingyu nervous, so Mingyu avoided their house when he could. 

Well, that and the fact that Seungkwan was freaking out. 

The four of them had been at Soonyoung’s house and Soonyoung’s phone--Soonyoung’s creepy, time-traveling, death-predicting phone--had rung again. Like last time, Soonyoung had frozen up, looking sick, but this time Seungkwan had frozen up with him. Mingyu felt a jolt of fear punch through his chest, glancing at Seungcheol, who looked back with worried eyes. More than anything, Mingyu wanted all of this to already be over, so he’d pushed the fear away and led the pack to where the phone was hidden away, answering it.

Despite knowing that no one was supposed to be on the other line he still asked “Hello?”, still waited, and still half-expected a response. Nothing came, so he hung up and glanced at Soonyoung. 

“The zero, right? And I have to wind it all the way back?” 

Soonyoung nodded. Mingyu had never actually had to use a rotary phone before, but the dial spun easily and clicked quickly back into place. Then the voicemail began. 

“Seokmin, let me _go!”_ The shout was loud, immediate and wretched and raw. 

“Jihoon, you can’t--don’t--” 

“Let go of me!” There were the sounds of a struggle before it all stopped on a sudden, broken sob. And that--that was Jihoon’s voice, but Mingyu had never heard it like this, so pained and desperate. He’d never heard Jihoon cry like this. It sounded like the world was ending, and part of Mingyu almost believed that it was.

“You shouldn’t--you know we can’t move him. We shouldn’t touch him.” Seokmin’s voice was as level as it could get without breaking, thick with tears. “He--he’s still breathing, right? So we just, we just… We just have to wait for help.” 

“Mingyu, if you die, I’m going to fucking kill you.” Jihoon whimpered, and Mingyu felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, all of his friends turning to look at him. But the voicemail wasn’t over. 

“Who called an ambulance?” Came a shout from farther away. This voice was also rough and wavering. Was everyone crying? Mingyu recognized it, but was a little too shocked to place it at first. He didn’t end up needing to; Seungcheol gasped, taking a quick step towards the phone only to abort the motion halfway through.

“That’s Jeonghan.” He said softly. 

“Seungkwan did!” Seokmin shouted back, his voice thin with strain. “And Soonyoung went to look for help, but… Is Seungcheol okay?” 

“I think… I think he will be.” Jeonghan answered, and Mingyu turned to look at Seungcheol, whose face had gone white. Jeonghan’s voice was getting smaller as he spoke, trailing off, though if it was muffled by fear or by tears, Mingyu couldn’t tell. He was sounding less and less certain. “If he just… If an ambulance… If someone comes quickly.” 

A fit of coughing started somewhere else, and the voicemail stopped. Mingyu was still staring at Seungcheol, and Seungcheol was staring at the phone, but his eyes weren’t fully focused on it, his mind somewhere else.

“Seungkwan--” Soonyoung started, Mingyu turning quickly to look at him. Seungkwan’s face was screwed up into something awful, his eyes wet with tears that spilled over his cheeks as everything about him seemed to tense up, his eyelids squeezing closed, his shoulders hunching a bit, his hands curling into fists. “It’s--”

Mingyu didn’t know what Soonyoung was even trying to say, and none of them found out; Seungkwan took four quick steps forward, wiping hard at his face with one sleeve and huffing out a breath. Then he reached forward and grabbed the phone, pulling on it with a hard jerk. It lifted easily from the table, the cables in the back snapping away without any special sounds or sparks. Then he turned on his heel and threw the phone down the hallway. 

It slammed hard against the marble floor, the plastic making a horrible cracking sound as pieces of it fractured off and went flying. The dark base of the phone lay feet away from the rest of it, the insides exposed, the dial popped off completely and rolling away. The plastic shell of the phone was badly cracked as well, pieces of it chipped, and Mingyu couldn’t do much more than stare at the damage in shock. 

“Seungkwan?” Seungcheol’s voice was faint with surprise, and Seungkwan let out a loud sob, falling to his knees. There was no control to the movement, looking and sounding painful against the stone floor, but if it did hurt Seungkwan didn’t say anything; his face was buried in his arms. Seungcheol knelt next to him and was pulled immediately into an embrace, desperation in the way Seungkwan grabbed at his shoulders. 

“You can’t die.” Seungkwan told him, in more of a whimper than a word. “You can’t die. You can’t. You can’t.”

“Okay.” Seungcheol looked like he didn’t know what else to say, and Mingyu didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have been able to say anything either. He couldn’t even think. But then he remembered something.

“I have to go.” He told them, Soonyoung reaching for him as he turned. 

“Mingyu--”

“I’ll be back, I promise, I just--” He cut himself off so he could get away quickly, getting on his bike and speeding home. Because someone had already told him he was going to die, and their number was in the backlog of the landline phone at home. 

When Mingyu reentered Soonyoung’s house he found all of his friends in the front room, all of them on the couch, and all of them looking like they’d cried. Selfishly, Mingyu was glad that he’d missed it. Being upset about the voicemail made it feel more real than he wanted it to be right now.

“Soonyoung, can you keep some guests for the next couple days?” He asked upon walking in. 

“I… Sure?” Soonyoung began to frown, but he’d already agreed, so Mingyu was already holding him to it. “Why? What’s going on?” 

“I didn’t tell you guys, because it was weird, but yesterday I got a phone call from someone I didn’t know telling me that something bad was going to happen.” Mingyu sat in a chair that faced the couch. The piece of furniture was as pretty as it was uncomfortable. “Happen to me, I mean. And I just kind of hung up on the guy, but now, with this…” Mingyu made a vague gesture, unsure if he was waving in the direction of the little phone closet or not, but it didn’t much matter. “I thought maybe I should try to see what it was about.” 

“...and?” Seungcheol prompted, when Mingyu didn’t continue. “What was it about?” 

“It’s this guy, and I think he has a time-death phone too.” Mingyu said. “He’d gotten a voicemail message that had my name in it--and my voice in it--and he was worried about me. He said that calling me had been a long shot, but he’s sure that it was me.”

“But you haven’t gotten hurt recently.” Soonyoung said. Seungkwan was still sniffling. 

“I know. I don’t really think he knows what’s going on, but I want to talk to him. I invited him up here.”

Seungcheol nodded. “It’s something, at least.” He said. He both looked and sounded a bit distracted, but Mingyu didn’t blame him; he felt distracted too. 

“The way Jihoon sounded in that voicemail… I mean, that was Jihoon, right?” Soonyoung asked. Mingyu didn’t think that Soonyoung was genuinely asking, because it was obvious that it was Jihoon--it was definitely his voice, and if nothing else Seokmin had called him by name--but he knew what Soonyoung meant with the question. It was almost unbelievable, to hear him that upset.

“I’ve never, ever heard him sound like that.” Seungcheol said. “And… Mingyu, he was upset about you.” 

The beginnings of nausea were curling in Mingyu’s stomach. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and tucking his chin. 

“When isn’t he upset about me?” _If you die, I’m going to fucking kill you._ “Even when I’m dying, he can’t just leave me alone. He can’t just let me go in peace.”

“You think you’re going to die?” Seungcheol asked, and Mingyu shrugged.

“I mean, that’s what the voicemail means, doesn’t it? That someone’s going to die? And the way they were talking… Things didn’t exactly sound like they were going well for me.” Seokmin, saying that they shouldn’t try to move him. That they had to wait for help. That at least he was still breathing. Mingyu felt sick. 

“A lot of people were in it.” Soonyoung pointed out. “It wasn’t just you. Seokmin, Jihoon, and Jeonghan. Seungkwan and I were mentioned.” 

Seungkwan was silent, sitting on the couch between Seungcheol and Soonyoung. He’d stopped crying, which Mingyu was glad for, but somehow seeing him so still and upset was almost worse, all curled in on himself. His eyes were glassy and his face was blotchy, and Mingyu couldn’t say for sure if he was listening at all to anything they were saying.

“Maybe it’ll be me.” Seungcheol said. “Instead of you.” 

“You’d love that.” Mingyu muttered, but not quietly enough; Soonyoung gave him a pointed look, and he glanced away. 

“I’m just saying.” Seungcheol let out a breath. “I was mentioned in the voicemail, and I didn’t sound good either. Jeonghan was worried. He said the ambulance needed to hurry.”

The ambulance needed to hurry. Mingyu was breathing. At least he was still breathing. 

“Soonyoung, has the phone ever killed two people at once?” 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Seungkwan said, before Soonyoung even had the chance to answer Mingyu’s question. His voice sounded thin and strained, and his eyes were still on his hands, which were resting lifeless in his lap. “ I don’t… I don’t want to think about this anymore.”

“I don’t either.” Soongyoung said, sliding down the couch a little to rest his head on Seungkwan’s shoulder. Seungcheol glanced over at Mingyu, his eyebrows tilted in silent question--if it was okay for the subject to be dropped--but there was something Mingyu wanted to see about, getting up from his chair. His friends all followed him, ending up in the hallway with the broken phone, parts of the device still scattered over the floor. 

“Do you think… Do you think there’s a way to fix it?” Mingyu asked. “A way to listen to the voicemail again?” 

“Why do you want to listen to it again?” Seungcheol asked. 

“We weren’t--I know I wasn’t--listening very closely the first time. Maybe if we could hear it again, we could… I don’t know, learn something. Figure out more of what’s going on. Where we were, or… I don’t know. Something.” 

Despite his mumbling, his friends found his reasoning solid, and the four of them tried to gather all of the phone’s pieces. It became apparent quickly, however, that the functional pieces of the phone that had come off couldn’t exactly be popped back into place; the phone was well and truly busted, and Mingyu had the feeling that even if they took it somewhere and got it repaired, it probably would lose all of the magical properties it was supposed to have. 

Even though none of them wanted to talk about the voicemail anymore, the idea that they couldn’t get it back or listen to it again made Mingyu nervous. The details were already fading from Mingyu’s mind, and he was left with Jihoon crying, Seokmin’s voice, and Jeonghan’s question about the ambulance. It was all the sharp things, the scary things, the things that were the least helpful.

“At least we never have to hear it again.” Soonyoung said. Seungcheol nodded in agreement, glancing to Mingyu. 

“Maybe that person you talked to will have something. Maybe he knows more than you think.” 

“Maybe.” Mingyu didn’t really know if that was something he wanted or not.

  
  


_**09** _

The stranger sleeping on Wonwoo’s couch was making Jeonghan nervous. He’d been lying there, still and silent aside from steady breathing for almost three hours, but Jeonghan had a hard time not keeping an eye on him. There was something about him; maybe in the way he was so extremely slim, wispy and thin and phantom-like with how his skin was so pale and his hair and clothes were so dark. Maybe it was the fact that Jeonghan had no idea what his ability was. 

At the same time though, Jeonghan wanted to do something for this stranger, like get him food or put a blanket over him. The man just looked… Upset, his face holding signs of distress even in sleep, dark circles bruised under his eyes. Based on the way he had stumbled into Wonwoo’s living room, Jeonghan had a strong suspicion that this was probably the first time he’d slept in at least the past twenty-four hours, if not more.

He’d shown up in the very early hours of the morning, knocking on Wonwoo’s front door, leaning heavily against the doorway in a way that suggested it was the only thing keeping him standing and asking, in noticeably accented Korean, “Is Lee Seokmin here?”

Lee Seokmin was there. They all were; the four of them had all been hanging out, and it had grown later than they’d realized, deciding to all crash at Wonwoo’s instead of going back home. Wonwoo had retreated to his bedroom--they’d spent the night at his house too many times to get special treatment anymore--while Jeonghan snagged the couch and Seokmin and Jihoon curled up together on the floor. The knock on the door had woken Jeonghan and Seokmin up, and after some groggy debating, Seokmin had decided to answer it.

Jeonghan knew that if it had been him that answered, he would have lied. There was no way that a stranger going door to door at nearly four in the morning asking for someone was good news. But it had been Seokmin that opened the door, and he’d been too surprised to lie. 

“I… I’m Lee Seokmin.” He’d said instead, and without invitation, the stranger had stumbled through the doorway. That got Jeonghan on his feet, ready to jump in, ready to blind the man if need be, but instead he was met with the sight of a person that looked dead on his feet.

“...are you okay?” Jeonghan asked instead. The man cut him a quick glance, nodding. He had a grey cell phone in one hand, the thing looking absolutely ancient, and a notebook in the other. 

“Yes. I just…” He stumbled again, tripping over the drag of his own feet, and Seokmin hurried to help him sit on the couch. Seokmin stepped on Jihoon in the process, who grumbled and rolled, but didn’t wake up. “I need help, I…”

The man trailed off, just sitting there for a moment, and Seokmin sent a hesitant look to Jeonghan. Jeonghan looked back. Now that they’d let the man in, they had to do… Well, they had to do something. Somewhere in the process of them silently debating what that something was, the stranger had fallen asleep. So Jeonghan and Seokmin shook Jihoon and Wonwoo awake. 

They’d decided first to search through the man’s things, to see what they could figure out about him. Jihoon picked up the old cell phone and shook it, a frown on his face. 

“What?” Jeonghan asked him. They’d tried to stay quiet at first, but when Wonwoo had shattered a glass in the kitchen and the man had remained dead to the world, they’d realized that he was either too deep a sleeper or too exhausted for them to worry about waking him. 

“It’s too light.” Jihoon said, turning the phone in his hand. He opened up the battery port in the back, Jeonghan peering over his shoulder. The battery port was empty, the plastic inside warped. “This phone doesn’t even work. Why does he have it?”

“...guys?” That was Seokmin, sounding nervous and hesitant. He was flipping through the stranger’s notebook.

“What?” 

“My name is in here. Wonwoo’s name is in here. Mingyu and Seungcheol’s names are in here.” 

They all crowded around Seokmin, and he flipped to a page to show them. The things written were a mixture of Korean and English words, Jeonghan’s eyes going immediately to a passage of something that looked like dialogue. 

“...‘I fucking hate you Mingyu’?” He read. “What?” 

“That--that’s from me.” Jihoon said after a moment. “I said that. I said that a few days ago. And then you Jeonghan, see?” He reached under Seokmin’s arm to point at words below the ones Jeonghan had read. “The ‘Wonwoo, don’t’. You said that. This… This is what happened the day your fingers were broken.” 

“How does he know this?” Seokmin asked. “Is he stalking us or something?” 

“If he was stalking us, he would know where you live.” Wonwoo told Seokmin. The expression Seokmin gave Wonwoo at that statement would have made Jeonghan laugh if the rest of the situation weren’t so strange and serious. 

“That’s Mingyu’s phone number.” Jeonghan said, pointing. “The house phone, not his cell phone, but still.” He took the notebook, flipping through it, passing by math problems and strange doodles and coming to the inside of the front cover. Written in pen in a corner was the name _Hansol Vernon Chwe._

“What should we do?” Seokmin asked. “Should we tell Mingyu? Should we tell the police?” 

Jeonghan didn’t really like either of those options. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this man wasn’t dangerous, despite the arguably creepy stuff in the notebook and the inexplicable attachment to the broken relic of a cell phone. Instead, he could just hear the man, his voice faint and unfamiliar. _“I need help.”_

“Let’s wake him up.” Jeonghan proposed. The other three gave him surprised looks. “Just… We’ll wake him up, and we’ll ask him questions. If he ends up being weird, it’ll be four against one. Jihoon can do it, so it’s not sudden and none of us have to get close enough to touch him.” 

Nobody agreed with the idea, but nobody disagreed either, all of them looking at the stranger slumped on the couch. After a few minutes of silence, Jihoon glanced around at them all.

“So am I doing this, or…?”

Again, nothing. The whole room was nervous. So Jeonghan stepped up, ready to accept responsibility.

“Yes. Just… Do it gently.” 

Jihoon nodded, closing his eyes, his eyebrows tilting together in concentration. After a couple of moments the stranger began to stir, slow at first, but then he sat up fast, his chest heaving with an anxious inhale.

“Gently!” Jeonghan said urgently, under his breath, but Jihoon gave a minute shake of his head.

“I… I didn’t do that. I think he’s just scared.” 

The man was looking around, his eyes wide, frozen on the couch like a deer in the headlights. Jeonghan was poised, again ready to act, and out of the corner of his eye he could also see Wonwoo tensed up. Then Seokmin took a step forward, his expression one of concern and sympathy, and he spoke. 

“I’m Lee Seokmin. You said you were looking for me.” 

It was just barely after six in the morning, sunlight streaming weakly through the slats in the blinds of Wonwoo’s kitchen. The stranger nodded. 

“You also… You also said you needed help.” Jeonghan took a step forward too, not wanting Seokmin to stand that close all by himself, just in case. “We want to help you, but we have some questions.” 

The stranger nodded again, but Jeonghan didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to the notebook in Jeonghan’s hand. Then he looked at the grey phone, at the floor by Jihoon’s feet.

“Could I have that, please?” He asked. His voice was very soft. Jihoon stooped to pick the phone up, but held onto it instead of handing it over. 

“What are you going to do with it?”

“It’s very important.” 

“Could you just… Could you tell us your name, please?” Seokmin asked. Wonwoo was still poised and ready, though Jeonghan‘s own suspicion had already begun to fade; this man was very quiet and very obviously scared, but it wasn’t of them. He was scared of something else entirely.

“My name is Xu Minghao.” He said. “Someone… Someone I love is going to die, and I’m trying to save him. I think some of you can help me.”

“Us?” Seokmin asked. “Help you… Save someone?” 

“If you’re Xu Minghao, who is Hansol Vernon Chwe?” Jeonghan asked. 

“A friend. Please,” Minghao held a hand out to Jihoon. “The phone?” 

Jihoon handed it over. The instant it was in Minghao’s hands, it was like it transformed into something precious; Minghao held it gently, carefully, Jihoon asking the question that Jeonghan was wondering. 

“Isn’t it broken?” 

Minghao glanced up at him, his eyebrows slightly tilted in question.

“The phone.” Jihoon said. “It doesn’t work, does it?” 

“It doesn’t make calls.” Minghao admitted after a moment. “But it does other things. It has a voicemail on it right now.” 

“How are we supposed to help you save someone?” Seokmin asked, seemingly--and understandably--still hung up on that. 

“Maybe not save him, but… You are a part of this.” 

“Me?”

Minghao nodded. “Seokmin is in this voicemail.”

“Can we hear it?” Jeonghan asked. At the request Minghao went visibly still, his breathing seeming to become more shallow. 

“This phone gets messages from the future.” He said suddenly. “That’s how it works. It saves tiny pieces--moments--as voicemails. It’s usually something bad.” 

“Like breaking my fingers?” Jeonghan guessed, holding up his injured hand. Minghao’s eyes went a bit narrow.

“Are you Mingyu?” He asked, the question unexpected. Jeonghan shook his head. 

“I’m Yoon Jeonghan.” He said. “But…” He turned to the page in the notebook that they’d looked at before. “This happened right before my fingers were broken. Mingyu was there, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And I’m the one that hates him.” Jihoon added, pointing to the handwritten transcript. 

“Are you Wonwoo?” 

“I’m Wonwoo.” Wonwoo said, speaking up for the first time. Minghao’s expression was one of confusion, and the four of them took a moment to introduce themselves. Minghao looked maybe even more confused when they were finished, but Jeonghan didn’t find that to be incredibly important, more concerned with whatever the voicemail was, whatever the “something bad” was going to be. 

“Can we listen to it?” He asked again. “The voicemail?”

Minghao looked reluctant, and Jeonghan could tell, but that only made him more curious. Finally though, he held up the phone and pushed a button. 

The crying was instant and awful. It wasn’t what Jeonghan expected at all, so taken aback that he couldn’t really tell what was happening. Someone was crying, someone was reassuring, someone was apologizing… It was all so much, Jeonghan’s mind going blank with surprise when he heard a familiar voice. 

“I can’t--it’s not working. I don’t know why it’s not working.” 

It was Seungcheol. It was Seungcheol, and he sounded so awful that for a moment, Jeonghan felt he couldn’t breathe. 

“It doesn’t… Junhui doesn’t work like that.” 

“Seungcheol please, don’t--” Jeonghan almost gasped, all of his friends turning to him because that was his voice, his own voice, pleading and crying. “Please, you’re going to kill yourself--you need to stop. You’re too hurt. He’s too hurt.”

Jeonghan was begging with Seungcheol, begging because Seungcheol was trying to heal someone, some stranger named Junhui, and was going to kill himself doing it. Jeonghan felt tears welling in his eyes. 

The voicemail wound down into some crying and mumbling and before much longer, it was over. The four of them stood there in silence; Seokmin’s eyes were wide, and he looked awful, Jihoon with a hand up to his mouth, Wonwoo’s body incredibly still. 

“That… That’s all I have.” Minghao said after a moment. He didn’t look well either. “I came here because in the voicemail, someone says Seokmin’s name.” 

“It says Seungcheol’s name too. Why didn’t you go to him?” Wonwoo asked. Minghao looked at his hands. 

“I went to Choi Seungcheol’s house first.” He said. “He wasn’t home. I was told they didn’t know when he would return. So I began to look for Seokmin instead, and I was told I might find him here.” Minghao looked to Seokmin, his expression slightly hesitant. “I… I think I met your mother. She invited me inside when I said I knew Seungcheol, and tried to feed me. She asked if you were getting the group from high school back together, and she seemed hopeful, so I said yes. That made her very excited.” 

Seokmin laughed but the sound was a little strained, as though he found Minghao’s story funny, but was also suddenly and incredibly stressed out. Based on what they’d just heard though, Jeonghan couldn’t blame him. Jeonghan’s chest was tight, the lump in his throat painful, and he stared at the phone in Minghao’s hand. 

“So… What’s happening?” Jeonghan asked, hating how his voice sounded, willing himself not to cry. “In that voicemail… What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know.” Minghao said. Jeonghan didn’t want to hear that, didn’t want to accept that because this Minghao was the one that had brought the phone to them, the one that had come looking for them, had played the voicemail for them. By hearing his voice though, Jeonghan knew that he was telling the truth. Minghao sounded too helpless to be lying. “I know that I’m in the voicemail, that my friend Joshua is in the voicemail, that… That Junhui is in the voicemail, and that some of you are.” He glanced again at Seokmin as he spoke. “And I want to find out why.”

“I’m in it.” Jeonghan offered. “The person talking to Seungcheol. That’s me.” Saying his boyfriend’s name was a hard thing to do with a neutral expression, but Jeonghan had a facade to keep up. He noticed Jihoon look over at him from the corner of his eye. “And… We all know who Seungcheol is. The fact that the two of us are in the same place isn’t something… Unheard of.”

“Why do you think someone is going to die?” Wonwoo asked. Minghao was silent for a long moment, his expression conflicted. When he spoke again it was slow, one word after the other, each one chosen with purpose.

“These phones are warnings. They are alerts that something painful will happen. Because of them, we heard Legislator Kwon’s car accident. We heard my friend Joshua’s head injury. We heard your broken fingers. The way this voicemail sounds…”

It wasn’t up for debate that whatever was happening in the voicemail was devastating. That much was obvious. What Jeonghan couldn’t understand was how Minghao had come to the conclusion that it was someone he knew that was dying, when Seungcheol was the one actively trying to kill himself. Trying to, despite Jeonghan begging him to stop. 

“The phones exist because of my ability.” Minghao continued. “I can distort time. Usually not on purpose; the first of these phones I created was accidental.”

“Then why don’t you change it?” Seokmin asked. “Why don’t you… I don’t know, do something about what’s supposed to happen? Now that you know that this is happening, can’t you use your time travel and stop it?”

Minghao shook his head. “Time doesn’t work like that.” He said. “It’s a straight line. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and each event leads to the next; finding out what will happen ensures that any steps taken will lead to what was learned coming true. I know that what I heard is going to happen, and I know that it is going to be my fault.” 

The four of them all glanced around at each other. Jeonghan wanted to argue the point, but he didn’t know enough about time travel to dispute it, and he knew that none of his friends did either. 

“I think that being away from Junhui might delay it.” Minghao continued. “It’s just running, but I don’t have the strength to face him right now. I want to try to learn about the situation instead. I want to… I want to take this warning as much as I can, and try to… Try to understand.”

Part of Jeonghan still had a hard time believing that any of this was truly real. He was about to speak up, about to say something, when a past conversation hit him with such a jolt that he had to work hard to hold in a gasp. It was from weeks and weeks ago, but Minghao mentioning Legislator Kwon had jogged his memory. 

_“Soonyoung--well, all four of us--heard him die before it happened.”_ Seungcheol had been in contact with this sort of thing before, a time-telling, death-harbinging phone. _“The phone call was almost a week before he died.”_

Almost a week. 

“Do… Do any of you have phones that aren’t being used?” Minghao asked. Now that he was requesting something, his voice had gone soft and hesitant again. 

“Why, do you want to make another one of these things?” Jihoon asked. The question was tinged with a touch of dry sarcasm, but Minghao nodded, either ignoring the tone or not picking up on it. 

“I want to find out as much as I can, but I don’t know if these phones can have more than one voicemail at a time.” He explained. “If they can’t, I don’t want to miss out on a call we could get, or have this voicemail be erased. So I want another phone.”

“Oh.” They all glanced around at each other for a moment before Wonwoo spoke up.

“Does it have to already be broken?” He asked. “Because I can break mine. It’s already kind of broken anyway.” 

“Hey, don’t do that.” Jihoon told him, just as Seokmin’s eyes lit up. 

“My mom bought an antique two weeks ago at an auction.” He said. “One of those candlestick ones from the twenties. Would that work?” 

Minghao nodded. After promising to be back soon, Seokmin slipped out, all of them listening to his motorcycle rev up and drive away. Jeonghan opened the notebook, reading over the transcript of the voicemail they’d heard. Every part of him was screaming to call Seungcheol, just to hear his voice if nothing else, but he knew he couldn’t do that without stepping out and he wanted more information, needed more information, sitting down next to Minghao on the couch instead.

“Who is Hansol Chwe?” He decided to ask again. The name seemed like it had to be attached to someone important; as far as Jeonghan knew, he wasn’t someone in the voicemail, but he was the guy that owned the notebook, so he had to be involved.

“A friend.” Minghao said again. Through a series of questions, Jeonghan learned about Minghao’s very close-knit friend group. It was surprising, how easily Minghao gave answers to anything Jeonghan asked, and how all of it seemed like the truth. Junhui was the one Minghao loved, the one Minghao was afraid for. The way Minghao spoke about him was very unabashed and open, as though being in love with him was something destined, just a simple fact of the universe. It reminded Jeonghan a bit of his own love, and in a way it made him sympathetic towards Minghao. In a much more real, more selfish way though, it made Jeonghan want to protect what was his with all that he had, by any means that were needed, and he catalogued everything Minghao told him away in the back of his mind to use if he had to. 

Seokmin returned with a backpack, setting it down on Wonwoo’s kitchen counter with a thunk and pulling the phone out. The thing was definitely an antique, all nickel-plated brass and hard black rubber, and Jeonghan hoped that Seokmin’s mother hadn’t paid too much for it, because he couldn’t shake the feeling that what they were going to do to it was going to ruin the thing.

Minghao walked up, closed his eyes, and placed a hand on the phone. Jeonghan wasn’t sure what he expected to happen, but he definitely expected _something;_ after holding onto it for a moment, Minghao simply stepped away. 

“Was that it?” Seokmin asked. “It’s all time-weird now?”

“It probably won’t ring immediately.” Minghao tried to say, cut off near the end by the phone ringing. It was a shrill, panicked sort of sound, and it sent a nervous jolt through Jeonghan’s chest. 

“I’m not going to answer that.” Jihoon said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. They all glanced around at each other, and Minghao looked about ready to answer the phone himself when instead Wonwoo stepped forward. He leaned in towards the bakelite, putting the bell up to his ear.

“Hello?” He tried. “Hello? Hello?”

“No one is there.” Minghao told him. “It’s not the call. It’s the voicemail.”

“This phone is too old to hold voicemails.” Seokmin countered. “It doesn’t--”

“That cell phone shouldn’t be able to have voicemails either.” Jihoon cut in. 

“Should… Do I just hang up, then?” Wonwoo asked. They all glanced at Minghao, who nodded. Then Minghao stepped forwards, looking over the phone for a moment.

“I don’t really know…” This phone had no buttons, equipped with nothing but a rotary dial. “It’s been a button on the other phones, but…”

He began trying things, pulling the dial around to certain numbers and letting it click back. Seokmin was in the middle of saying again that he really didn’t think a phone like this could have a voicemail on it when Minghao pulled the dial all the way back from the zero. It clicked around, and noise began to filter through the mouthpiece.

“Mingyu?” 

The name struck Jeonghan first. The second thing, even more shocking--so surprising that it took his brain a few moments to register it, to accept it--was that it was Jihoon’s voice. But it wasn’t the way Jihoon usually said Mingyu’s name, sharp with hostility or thick with poison; it was let out in a breath, the question soft with fear and disbelief. 

“Mingyu? Mingyu!”

“That’s me.” Jihoon said. His voice was quiet, his eyes wide with unease. “How--why is that me?” 

“Mingyu… Mingyu, please, open your eyes.” In the voicemail Jihoon’s voice was shaking, growing thick with tears. “You can’t, you can’t--”

His words were starting to quicken, a panicked edge to them that sent a stir of fear coursing through Jeonghan’s chest. Something was very, very wrong. 

“Jihoon!” The shout was a welcome change, but it wasn’t Mingyu’s voice, as Jeonghan found himself hoping; it was Seokmin, far away but getting closer. “Are you okay?” 

“Mingyu--Mingyu, please--please, I love you, you can’t--you have to--please open your eyes.”

Jihoon was fully sobbing, continually cutting himself off and starting again, tearful and pleading. His voice was frantic but still hushed with panic, occasionally going muffled as he moved.

“Jihoon!” Seokmin yelled again, much louder; much closer, mixed with a couple loud coughs. “Are you hurt?” 

“No, but--” 

“Jihoon!” Seokmin’s shout this time was urgent and scared. “If he’s--if he’s hurt you can’t shake--you need to get off him--”

“He’s not opening his eyes.” Jihoon’s voice broke, rising a second later into a yell. “Seokmin, let me _go!”_

Then the voicemail cut off. Jeonghan decided that he hated this. 

The five of them were quiet for a long time, Jeonghan’s eyes on Jihoon. Jihoon’s face was relatively blank, standing there, stock still.

“That isn’t real.” He finally said. Speaking had his voice wavering, his jaw working. “That can’t--that can’t be real, that’s…” 

He didn’t finish, swallowing hard instead. 

“It was in the other voicemail.” Wonwoo said. “Seokmin’s name, said like that. It was in the first one too.”

“What?” Seokmin asked. Instead of subjecting them all to the first voicemail again, Wonwoo took the notebook and flipped to the proper page, the one with the transcript. The line was there, the speaker a question mark. _Seokmin, let me go!_

“So… These things are happening at the same time.” Seokmin said. “They’re connected.” 

Jeonghan’s eyes hadn’t left Jihoon. His arms were folded over his chest now, his chin tilted up, his eyes on the ceiling. Both of his lips were curled in, and he was biting hard on the bottom one. It was a stance Jeonghan had seen before; Jihoon was trying very hard not to cry. 

“We’re going to figure this out.” Jeonghan said, getting up from the couch and wrapping an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders. “We’ll find out what we can, okay?” 

“Okay.” Jihoon’s voice was incredibly quiet, but Jeonghan was taking the fact that he’d spoken at all as something good. “Okay.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> additional warnings for explicit language, brief nudity, implied sexual content, and a little light kidnapping between friends

_**10** _

It was like something out of a movie, pulling up to the Kwon estate. They’d taken their motorcycles there, riding in a single file line, Junhui in the lead and the rest of them coming up behind. The ride wasn’t incredibly long, only a couple of hours, and Vernon found it hard to believe that it took such a short time to travel to such a completely different world. The houses steadily grew larger, each place--each mansion, they had to be considered mansions--more astounding than the last. When they reached their destination, Vernon could barely believe what they were looking at. 

The house was a large white thing with many columns and windows, the place looking more like a fancy school or government building than somewhere fit to call home. Even more than that though, the amount of land the property had was amazing, miles upon miles of grounds and gardens, all incredibly well kept. Vernon just had to sit on his bike for a moment once he’d come to a stop and look around at everything. 

Four people were waiting for them when they arrived. The only one of them that Vernon recognized was Kim Mingyu, one of the two standing in the middle; he was the tallest, and Vernon had seen some pictures of him during his late night internet searching. All four were dressed in clothes that were only pretending to look normal--the scrawl of a brand name somewhere on the fabric hiked the price of some simple t-shirt from thirty dollars to three hundred--just standing and watching them ride in. 

Once Chan, the last in their line, had pulled up and taken off his helmet, the other young man standing in the middle spoke up.

“You can just leave your bikes there.” He had a face that looked like it was made for smiling, despite the serious expression he was wearing now. Something about him was striking Vernon as familiar, but Vernon knew it was too vague of a feeling for him to be able to figure it out and actually place a name with the face. “They’ll be taken care of.” 

Vernon expected some kind of elaboration on that statement, but when none came, he just glanced at his friends. Junhui simply shrugged, and Joshua didn’t glance back, which came as a bit of a surprise; Joshua was usually always looking at him as soon as Vernon had the thought in his mind to look Joshua’s way. 

Chan, not catching on to much of this at all, had already hopped off his bike. Vernon remembered in that moment that Chan was relatively well off too, and probably didn’t feel like such a fish out of water, so he decided to follow along with what Chan seemed to deem appropriate. Once they all had both feet on the ground, the one that had spoken before gestured for them to follow him, and they began a walk up to the front of the house. 

“This is the biggest building I’ve ever seen.” Vernon murmured to Joshua, leaning in close. “Not even the biggest house. Just… The biggest.”

Joshua nodded back, turning to whisper in Vernon’s ear. “Even Chan’s a little uncomfortable.” He told Vernon. “He’s trying not to show it, but he is.”

Vernon glanced over. Sure enough, Chan’s posture was suddenly impeccable, and there was a slight but noticeable tension around his lips as he pursed them closed. On the other hand, Junhui was looking relatively unfazed, but Junhui was rather good at looking relatively unfazed; the only thing different than usual about Junhui was the slight stress and worry on his face, but that had been there since yesterday, had been there since Minghao had disappeared.

The quiet walk into the house was a bit uncomfortable. Introductions began to feel slightly overdue, and maybe the richier group of men noticed it, because they came to a stop when they entered a front room, the space very white and light blue, with flowers on the tables and furniture that looked thin, uncomfortable, and worth more than everything in Vernon’s entire house. The one that had been talking to them thus far--seeming more like a host than Mingyu, despite this being Mingyu’s invitation--turned to them. 

“My name is Kwon Soonyoung.” He said. “Welcome to my house.” 

Kwon. At the surname, Vernon realized why Soonyoung had a face he’d seen before; he’d been pictured at Legislator Kwon’s funeral, photos of him showing up in the articles about it that Vernon had read. 

“Are any of you Choi Seungcheol?” Junhui asked. All of them turned to him in surprise. After a beat of silence, the man on Mingyu’s right lifted his hand, the motion slow, his wrist level with his shoulder as he spoke.

“I am.” He said. “Who are you?”

Junhui ignored the question. “Have you… Have you spoken to someone named Xu Minghao?”

“...who?” 

“Which one of you is Vernon?” Mingyu asked. The question felt a little rude, but Vernon answered it anyway. 

“I am.” He said, and Mingyu met his eyes. 

“Why don’t we all just introduce ourselves?” Piped up the person on Soonyoung’s left. “I’m Boo Seungkwan.” 

Boo Seungkwan, Kwon Soonyoung, Kim Mingyu, and Choi Seungcheol. The only family name that Vernon recognized--aside from Kwon and Kim, which he’d learned about after this whole thing had started--was Seungkwan’s, his father the owner of a well-known construction company. Vernon expected some recognition when Chan said his name, but there wasn’t any, and Chan didn’t really seem like he wanted to push for there to be any either, so none of them mentioned it. 

When introductions were over, they all took seats in the front room, Vernon squeezing into a large chair next to Joshua instead of sitting somewhere alone, or somewhere next to a stranger. Mingyu was in a chair by himself, leaning towards Vernon as he asked,

“So. Why did you call me?” 

Though Vernon had tried to think it through, he hadn’t really been able to come up with a good way to present the information. So he took a breath, and decided he’d just have to go for it.

“This… It’s going to sound a little weird, but a friend of ours--Minghao, actually--” He said that with a slight nod in Junhui’s direction-- “can kind of… Mess with the way time works. He altered a phone of ours, so that it gets calls and holds voicemails from the future. The first call we got was about Legislator Kwon, about his car accident. Then we got one about Joshua.” He nodded this time to Joshua, who gave a small wave. “Then we got one with your name in it, Mingyu. And I guess, I don’t know, I wanted to warn you in some way.” 

Somehow, none of them were looking at him like he was speaking nonsense. 

“You got a voicemail about… About him?” Seungcheol asked instead, with a gesture to Joshua. “How isn’t he dead? Isn’t that what the voicemails mean?” 

“...how do you know what the voicemails mean?” Vernon asked back. 

“My family has a phone too.” Soonyoung said. “A phone that gets voicemails from the future. We heard about my uncle’s death as well. We’ve… We’ve had the phone for generations, and it’s caused multiple deaths in my family.”

Vernon didn’t even know what to say about that. Sure, people could have the same abilities, but the idea of someone else out there being able to do exactly what Minghao could do--and was also using that ability on telephones--felt unlikely. Time travel was a complicated concept; maybe the rules for it were flexible. 

“The phones… They don’t cause anything.” Joshua said after a moment. “They don’t cause the future to change; they just allow you to hear what’s already going to happen. I didn’t die because it doesn’t always mean death, either. It’s just something bad. Someone getting hurt.” He gestured to the scar on his head. There was only one section of scab left, a chunk that he’d accidentally scraped at while getting dressed, causing it to bleed again. The rest of it was pink and slightly pinched, fully scarred over. 

“So… You called me because you thought I was going to get hurt?” Mingyu asked Vernon. Vernon shrugged. 

“Yeah. But--sorry that I didn’t really explain it. It’s a weird thing to try to talk to a stranger about. And…” Vernon almost didn’t complete his sentence, but the concealed snort of laughter he got from Joshua, who knew what he was going to say, encouraged him to finish it. “And you hung up on me.” 

Unless there was an injury hiding somewhere under his clothes, Mingyu didn’t look hurt at all. He looked fine, and was acting fine, and Vernon’s confusion about it all must have tipped off Joshua, who spoke up with a question. 

“Did something happen to you?” He asked Mingyu. “Because we know for a fact that the voicemail happened recently, and that you were there.”

Mingyu shook his head. “I haven’t been to the hospital in eight months.” He told them. The specificity of the answer had Vernon raising an eyebrow. 

“There was another name in the voicemail though, right?” Chan asked. He was on the couch next to Seungkwan. “Someone else said a name.” 

“Oh, right.” Vernon had been focused on Mingyu, the animosity in “I fucking hate you, Mingyu” too strong of a precursor for someone getting injured to ignore, but he’d listened to the entire voicemail enough times to know the whole thing by heart. “Do any of you know someone named ‘Wonwoo’?”

Nobody spoke at first, but the way the four of them looked around at each other was answer enough. 

“Yeah.” Soonyoung finally said. “He’s not hurt either, though. The last time we all saw each other--”

“Oh!” Seungcheol’s voice was loud, his mouth open in inspiration. “Jeonghan got hurt. He’s the one that got hurt, remember? Wonwoo broke his fingers.” 

With the hesitant looks and the mentions about breaking people’s fingers, Vernon decided that he did not want to meet this Wonwoo person. 

“If it was an accident, then I guess that’s not so bad.” Joshua said. The statement was seemingly out of nowhere, Seungcheol’s head turning to him quickly, and Joshua put a hand over his mouth. “Sorry; I’m a mind reader. Bad habit.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows went fully up his forehead at that, and he got to his feet.

“Soonyoung, these people rode all the way here and you haven’t offered them drinks or anything. Let’s get them something to eat.” 

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen.” 

With Joshua next to him, Vernon fell in step next to Junhui as they walked.

“I don’t see how this is helping.” Junhui muttered to him.

“They’re the people in the voicemail.” Vernon said. “And they have a phone too. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”

“I hope so.”

“This is the only hint we have.” Joshua said. “Let’s just see where it goes, okay?” 

Chan managed to start up some small talk as they made their way to the kitchen, which Vernon was glad for, because he felt too intimidated by the wealth of the place to say much. Soonyoung and Seungkwan got to work getting glasses of water for everyone, Mingyu busying himself with snacks like the kitchen was his own, and Seungcheol approached Joshua. He had a hesitant expression on his face and Vernon hung back, feeling equal parts protective and apprehensive.

“Don’t worry.” Joshua said, before Seungcheol had opened his mouth. “I just learn secrets. I don’t spill them.” 

“Okay.” Seungcheol said after a moment of looking over Joshua’s face. “Thanks.”

Then he reached out and touched Joshua’s hand, and as Vernon watched, a fresh scab mirroring the one on Joshua’s head appeared on Seungcheol’s temple. Joshua reached up quickly, touching where he was supposed to have the injury; Vernon looked up to see the skin completely healed. 

“That’s going to scar.” Joshua told him. 

“I’m good at treating scars.” Seungcheol answered. Then, “Thanks, really.” 

He stepped back, and Vernon gave Joshua a questioning look. Joshua curled in to whisper to him. 

“He’s got a secret boyfriend.” He said. “I don’t know what’s so covert about it, but as soon as he realized I could read his mind he really started panicking. It was so loud I could barely focus on what people were actually saying. I mean, it’s some really handsome guy, but still.” Joshua rubbed at the healed spot of skin on his head. “He didn’t need… He didn’t need to do this, though.” 

Before Vernon could respond, Soonyoung walked up to them, one glass of water in each hand. Joshua’s face went pink as he accepted his, giving a word of thanks. Vernon could only stare, because for some reason Joshua was blushing, and Soonyoung began walking to the sink, glancing back as Joshua took a quick drink. Joshua instantly started to cough, his face growing more red, and Vernon turned to him in concern, taking Joshua’s water from him before he could spill it. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. Joshua was beginning to recover, nodding quickly, leaning in towards Vernon’s ear, who put an arm around him automatically.

“That… Soonyoung, he was just being…” There was a bit of amusement in Joshua’s voice, slightly raspy from all the coughing. “He was just being very complimentary, that’s all.”

“Complimentary? About you?” Vernon asked, his tone low--that was what Joshua was blushing about?--and Joshua pulled back a bit to lightly hit his chest. 

“Don’t sound surprised!” He said. _“Jerk.”_

“No, I just--” Vernon tried to defend himself, but Joshua slipped an arm around him and leaned against his chest, beginning to laugh. “Don’t tease me.”

“Don’t worry. I’m making sure he’s watching me drape myself all over you.” Joshua said, and the words were too much, especially with the smile Vernon could hear in Joshua’s voice; he spluttered out a noise of surprise, and Joshua was fully laughing now, leaning away. 

“It’s so fun to be in your head when you’re flustered.” Joshua told him. Vernon could feel his face burning. Once they all had drinks and snacks they stood around, Vernon jumping in when he heard a beat of silence in Chan and Mingyu’s debate about Balenciaga beanies.

“So, you guys have a phone too? A time-phone?” 

Soonyoung nodded. “It’s been in my family for a really long time.” He said. “It rang a couple weeks ago, for when my uncle was in that crash, and then… It rang yesterday.”

“That’s why I called you back.” Mingyu said. “I was in the voicemail. Me and Seungcheol both were. And… It really sounds like the phone is actually going to kill someone this time.” 

“Could we listen to it?” Junhui asked. “The voicemail?” 

The four shared a look.

“The phone… It’s broken.” Seungcheol finally told them. “We can’t fix it. We can’t listen to the voicemail again.”

Junhui seemed stumped at that, but after a few moments of silence, Chan spoke up. 

“Could you tell us what happens in it, maybe?” He asked. “I’m sure you remember it.”

“I…” Seungcheol glanced at Mingyu. He looked unsure of how to start. “Well, Jihoon was crying.” 

“Jihoon is someone we know.” Seungkwan added quickly. 

“And he was crying because Mingyu seemed really hurt. Like… Probably unconscious, shouldn’t move his spine type of hurt.” Seungcheol continued. “Seokmin was with him, trying to stop him from touching Mingyu, and--”

“Seokmin?” Junhui asked, cutting Seungcheol off and turning to Vernon. “Wasn’t the name ‘Seokmin’ in our voicemail too?” 

“Yeah.” Vernon nodded a bit. “We didn’t hear Seokmin talk, but someone yelled his name.”

“It was ‘Seokmin, let me go’.” Joshua supplied. “It was just in the background, but it sounded terrible.”

“It sounded terrible in ours too.” Mingyu said. His face had gone a bit dark since they’d begun talking about the voicemail, but Vernon didn’t have to wonder why. “Then Seokmin told Jeonghan that someone called an ambulance, which was something that apparently Seungcheol really needed, so he was hurt too.”

“Who is Seokmin?” Junhui asked. “Do you know him?” 

“He was our friend in high school.” Soonyoung supplied. “He lives in the neighborhood. Why? Do you know him?” 

“We have no idea who he is.” Chan said helpfully. “But we think our friend--we’re looking for him, he’s Minghao--might be wherever Seokmin is. Minghao stole our phone after we got a voicemail on it about him killing Junhui.” 

“Your friend is going to kill Junhui…” Seungkwan’s voice was slow, pointing to Junhui as he spoke. “...and you want to find him?”

“He’s my boyfriend.” Junhui said, just as Joshua jumped in with,

“He’s not actually going to kill him.” 

Mingyu, Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung all stared at them. 

“We don’t really know what’s going to happen.” Vernon decided to say. “In our voicemail, we didn’t hear anything about Mingyu, but Junhui sounds really hurt. We think that Minghao went to find more information, and ‘Seungcheol’ and ‘Seokmin’ are the only names that our voicemail had in them. Since Seungcheol is here, then maybe Minghao is with Seokmin.” 

They got more nods at that, which was better than the confused stares from earlier.

“Well, we know where Seokmin lives.” Soonyoung said. “Do you want to go to his house?” 

“Yes.” Junhui said, in a tone that not only left no room for argument, but also made it apparent that he wanted to leave at that very instant. So they all abandoned their food and drinks in Soonyoung’s kitchen and went to get their motorbikes. 

Apparently, the phrase “in the neighborhood” was a relative one, because it took them over twenty minutes to get to Seokmin’s house. Vernon thought it was probably because the houses were too big to be too close together. It seemed to take five minutes to get off Soonyoung’s property alone, riding past a full pool and large stretches of open ground. The grass was well kept, but despite this, Vernon spotted a couple of things littering the lawn that looked like oversized toys--what could be a giant zebra stuffed animal, and some large rubber balls--as they zoomed past. 

Rich people were weird. 

After a debate that seemed much too serious for the issue at hand, Soonyoung was chosen to go up to Seokmin’s front door. But that choice seemed to be the right one; he was enveloped in a hug as soon as the door opened by a woman with a very bright smile. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but it was easy to guess that the trip had been a bust when Soonyoung came back alone. 

“He’s not home. She said he’s at Wonwoo’s house.” Soonyoung slung a leg up over his motorcycle. “She also said I’m the second person that’s come looking for him in the past twenty-four hours.” 

“Do we want to go to Wonwoo’s house?” Seungcheol asked. Junhui answered affirmatively, but it wasn’t him Seungcheol was asking; Seungkwan kept his lips pursed together, and Mingyu let out a long sigh. 

“Sure.” Mingyu finally said. “Why the hell not?”

Wherever Wonwoo lived, it wasn’t “in the neighborhood”. It was incredible how quickly the houses shrunk, the eight of them coming to a stop in front of a house that had five motorcycles parked around it. Junhui leapt off his own bike as soon as he stopped, and Vernon knew why; one of those bikes was Minghao’s. Vernon saw Seungcheol pull his phone out. 

Junhui was at the front door instantly, pounding on the wood and calling out Minghao’s name. Joshua hurried forwards, putting a hand on his arm, but it took him actually pulling Junhui’s arm back to get him to stop. 

“You knocked, okay? If they’re home, they’ll answer.” Joshua said. The rest of them began to get off their bikes too, Vernon also walking up to the door. 

“They might not answer if they see a bunch of strangers standing here like this.” He pointed out, and Chan laughed a little. 

“Well, they won’t answer if they see us either.” Mingyu said. Despite all of the bikes outside the house, the longer they stood there, the less likely it seemed that anyone was home.

“I don’t hear anyone inside.” Joshua said after a couple of minutes. “Maybe they’re not home?” 

Reaching forwards, Vernon touched the door handle and closed his eyes. He saw people leaving the house, all of them strangers to Vernon, stepping out one by one. The doorway remained empty for just a moment before a last person slipped through, reaching back to close the door behind himself. It was Minghao.

“He’s here.” Vernon said. “Or, he was here. He left.” It must not have been long ago either; the way the daylight had looked in the vision and the way the daylight looked now were very close to the same. “And it had to be recently; they can’t be far, and they haven’t come back yet.” 

“Do you know which way they went?” Soonyoung asked, and to that Vernon had to shake his head. 

“Let’s take a walk.” Seungcheol suggested.

“I bet we’ll run into them.” Mingyu said dryly. “We’re good at that.”

Seungcheol set the direction and they began to walk, Vernon surprised when one of the rich kids fell in step next to him. He had a round, kind face and Vernon couldn’t quite remember his name; he’d introduced himself once a couple of hours ago, but he wasn’t Mingyu, hadn’t healed Joshua, and hadn’t had risque thoughts about Joshua, so Vernon hadn’t really ended up committing his name to memory. They were quiet for a moment, long enough for Vernon to begin feeling a bit awkward, so he broke the silence. 

“Hey.” 

“I’m Seungkwan.” Seungkwan said, and Vernon nodded a bit, deciding to respond in kind, not sure where this interaction was going but not really bothered by it yet.

“You can call me Vernon.” 

“I think it was really nice, what you did.” Seungkwan said. His eyes were on the ground. “Trying to call Mingyu. That you were worried about him. It means a lot.” 

Though this was all about Mingyu, Vernon couldn’t help but feel that the “it means a lot” comment was more about Seungkwan, and that it meant a lot to him personally. So Vernon just nodded again.

“I mean, you didn’t have to do anything.” Seungkwan continued, his face and his movements getting more animated as he went on. “But you did, and now you’re here, trying to figure this stuff out, even though it’s really scary.” 

Though it definitely wasn’t good, Vernon couldn’t remember saying that he thought what was going on was particularly scary. Which meant, he realized, that Seungkwan was scared. 

“I… It’s going to be okay.” He said, feeling painfully out of his element, startling a little when Seungkwan looked up at him, his face suggesting that he was hanging onto Vernon’s every word, and that made him flounder even more. Joshua, who was on Vernon’s other side, slipped his hand in Vernon’s and leaned around him so he could look at Seungkwan too. 

“We just have to try to hope for the best.” He said. “We need to remember that we don’t actually know what’s going to happen, despite how those voicemails might sound. Right?” 

Seungkwan nodded, the nod looking more to himself than in response to what Joshua said, thankfully looking a bit more relaxed. Vernon squeezed Joshua’s hand in thanks, and Joshua squeezed back. Chan and Mingyu had gotten into talking about clothes again, and Seungcheol had his phone in his hand the whole time. It was almost comical, really, how they all turned a corner and very nearly bodily ran into a second group of people.

Four of the people were strangers, all of them looking startlingly different despite how similarly they were dressed. The fifth person was Minghao. He looked tired, and a bit anxious, but it was such a relief to see him that something about it almost ached in Vernon’s chest. 

They all stared at each other in silence for a moment, Vernon’s eyes catching on the person standing next to Minghao. He was shorter than the rest of his friends, and had the grey cell phone in his hands. 

“Junhui.” Minghao’s voice was quiet, the name more of a breath than a spoken word, his eyes very wide. The stranger with the phone reached towards Minghao with it, trying to give it back, but it was as though Minghao didn’t even know he was there. 

“Minghao, please--” Junhui started, but he hadn’t even gotten halfway through Minghao’s name before Minghao turned, bolting away. Junhui, Chan, and Joshua raced after him, Joshua pulling his hand out of Vernon’s instead of slowing when Vernon didn’t try to run with them. Vernon did care for Minghao, wanting to talk to him and wanting him to come back, but there was a nagging feeling that he needed the grey cell phone back, especially with the voicemail that was on it now. Maybe if he explained that it was his, the stranger would give it to him. 

“Uh, hi.” Said one of the men Vernon didn’t know, a tall stranger with a thin nose. Nobody responded to the greeting, and when someone spoke again it was Mingyu, and it took Vernon a second to realize that Mingyu was speaking to him.

“Is that it?” Mingyu asked, pointing to the grey cell phone. Something about the question made the stranger holding it curl his hands around it protectively. 

“Oh, yeah.” Vernon answered. “Yeah, it is.” 

Mingyu stepped up, and the person holding the phone looked up at him for just a moment before turning and running in the other direction. 

Mingyu chased after him and Vernon followed, hearing a curse as Seungcheol came with them, Soonyoung and Seungkwan also leaving the three strangers behind. The one holding the phone was fast, but Mingyu’s legs were almost alarmingly longer, the chase ending when Mingyu caught the stranger in a dead end. 

“Jihoon.” 

Jihoon. The only thing Vernon knew about Jihoon was that in one of the voicemails, he was crying over Mingyu’s body. He definitely didn’t look like he was going to cry over Mingyu ever, about anything; he looked like he was the one who would put Mingyu in the ground. 

“Fuck off.” Jihoon said. 

“Mingyu--” Seungcheol’s tone was warning, cutting himself off as he came to a stop. The whole situation was tense, Vernon stepping back until he was behind Soonyoung and Seungkwan. Whatever was about to happen, he didn’t want to be a part of it. 

“Give me the phone.” Mingyu said, holding his hand out. He stepped closer and Jihoon stepped back, shaking his head. 

“You can’t have it. It’s not yours.” 

“It’s not yours either.” Mingyu pointed out. “But I know who it belongs to. So give it to me.” 

Jihoon’s eyes narrowed, his expression turning from angry to guarded. “Shut up.” He said. “Don’t try to tell me what to do.” 

Mingyu’s jaw clenched for a moment. 

“Either you give it to me, or I’m going to make you.” 

“Of course you are.” The bitterness in Jihoon’s voice was piercing. Mingyu took another step forward, and this time Jihoon didn’t back away, Vernon realizing that he didn’t have anywhere left to go. 

“Jihoon.” Mingyu said again. Jihoon didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just stared him down. Then Mingyu pulled his arm back and punched Jihoon in the face. 

_**11** _

“Why the hell did you do that?” 

Vernon felt incredibly uncomfortable. He was back at Soonyoung’s house with Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Seungcheol, and Seungcheol was fuming. 

“Why? You’re asking--we have the phone now, don’t we?” Mingyu asked back, gesturing to Soonyoung, who had the grey cell phone in his hand. “Ours broke, so we have a new one now.”

That wording was making Vernon nervous. He wanted the phone back--the phone was all he was here for, really--but was afraid to speak up about it now. He was surprised that Seungcheol had the confidence to raise his voice at Mingyu, because Mingyu’s mood was horrible in every sense of the word; he had an awful expression on his face, and while most of it was anger, it was tinged with other things, complicated things that Vernon couldn’t make out. He wished Joshua were here. 

“You _punched_ him.” Seungcheol said, and at the emphasized word, Mingyu looked away. 

“Yeah, well, it was payback for putting me in the fucking hospital.”

“It wasn’t.” Seungcheol said. “It wasn’t. It was Wonwoo who punched you, not Jihoon.” 

“Mingyu couldn’t punch Wonwoo.” Soonyoung spoke up. “He’d break his hand.” 

The words sounded like a joke, like a weak attempt at levity. They didn’t work, not with how angry Seungcheol sounded and how ready Mingyu looked to punch something else. 

“What are you going to do if they decide to punch back?” Seungcheol asked, his voice getting steadily louder. “You might not survive if Wonwoo hits you again. You almost died last year, don’t you remember that?” 

Vernon really, really didn’t want to meet Wonwoo.

“How could I not remember that?” Mingyu asked back, matching Seungcheol’s volume and furious tone. “I’m supposed to die in a couple of days anyway. Maybe that will be what does it.” 

Seungcheol opened his mouth, but didn’t seem to know what to say; he looked incredulous instead, shaking his head a little. Then his phone went off, causing him to break the stare Mingyu was giving him. He pulled the device from his pocket, examining the screen for a long moment. With a last look at Mingyu, Seungcheol answered the call, his voice low as he walked from the room. 

Mingyu let out a growl, stalking off in the opposite direction. The room was quiet. Vernon wanted nothing more than to just take the grey phone and call his friends, to regroup, to ask them if they’d managed to catch up with Minghao. He really didn’t think they’d just give the phone to him though, and he really didn’t want to get punched. Soonyoung turned to him. 

“This is the phone you had, right? How does it work?” 

“Well, it rings, and then to hear the voicemail you press the pound button.” Vernon said, pointing. 

“Could we listen to it?” 

“If… If you want to, I guess.” Vernon couldn’t help but wonder if Seungkwan wanted to hear the voicemail or not, but Soonyoung didn’t ask, pressing the pound key. 

It had been a couple of days since Vernon had heard the voicemail, and somehow it was worse than he remembered. Minghao’s crying made him feel sick, Junhui’s weak reassurances gut-wrenching. Seungkwan gasped when Seungcheol spoke, pointing at the phone, and after Joshua’s words, was able to identify the stranger speaking. 

“Jeonghan.” Was all he said, Soonyoung nodding. The voicemail ended, all the worse now that Vernon knew what the words in Mandarin actually meant. 

“You guys were right.” Soonyoung said. “Jihoon’s words to Seokmin… It’s definitely the same. Our voicemail was at the same time as yours.” 

Seungkwan had an interesting expression on his face, one that made Vernon ask what was wrong.

“No, it’s just… That sound in the background.” Seungkwan said. “It’s like… Construction is going on, right? Isn’t that what it sounds like?” 

Soonyoung seemed hesitant to play the voicemail again, asking instead, “Does your dad’s company have any projects going on right now?” 

Seungkwan’s lips bunched together as he thought. 

“Only one, I think. One that’s nearby, at least.” He answered. “They’re putting up a parking garage at the other end of town. We should probably go there and check it out, just to see.”

Vernon was about to see if Soonyoung would give the phone to him when, as though materializing out of thin air, Minghao appeared in the room.

A startled curse slipped from Soonyoung’s lips, the grey cell phone falling to the floor. Before Vernon really had enough time to be properly surprised to see Minghao, to say anything to him, to ask how the hell he’d managed to just appear here--because Vernon wasn’t completely set on the rules of time travel, but he was pretty sure that Minghao was not supposed to be able to do this--Minghao picked up the grey cell phone, opened his mouth as though to speak, and was gone again.

“That… That was the guy that just ran away.” Soonyoung said. “Right? The guy that you all are looking for?” 

Vernon nodded. “That was Minghao.” 

“I’ve seen him before.” Seungkwan said. His eyes were big. “Like, before today. The night I spun out on my motorcycle; he’s the guy I was trying not to hit.” 

“Wait, really?” Soonyoung asked in surprise. “Him?” 

The words didn’t mean much to Vernon, distracted from the conversation when his phone went off in his pocket. Joshua was calling, and he answered quickly. 

“Where are you?” Joshua asked him. “We chased Minghao for a while, but… He’s fast. We’ve been searching everywhere, and Junhui doesn’t want to admit it, but I think we’ve completely lost him.” 

“Yeah, and I think I know why.” Vernon answered. “Can you guys come back to Soonyoung’s? I’m there now.” 

“See you soon.” 

_**12** _

It had been a long time since Mingyu had gotten into a proper fight with Seungcheol. It used to happen more often when they were younger, back when they didn’t know each other very well, but that was when they’d only met up at their parents’ parties, and made up quickly because they were surrounded by stuffy adults and really only had each other to hang out with. The most recent fight Mingyu could remember--especially a fight where Seungcheol raised his voice in genuine frustration--hadn’t happened since high school, when Mingyu had declared himself unable to be friends with Jihoon, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo anymore. 

Even then, it hadn’t been like this. Then, Mingyu had gone into the fight knowing that he wouldn’t be able to be rational, because he was incapable of being rational when it came to Jihoon and his feelings, especially with the tangled mess of hurt and anger than his feelings had twisted themselves into. When Seungcheol had figured that out, the argument had gone in a different direction before simply fizzling out when Seungcheol also realized that Mingyu was not going to budge. That it wasn’t actually a debate. 

But still, that fight had been different than this. Seungcheol liked to sit down and work things through, liked to talk things out, which was as admirable as it was annoying. He’d never yelled, glared, and stomped off like that. It had Mingyu feeling unsettled. 

By the time night had fallen, that discomfort had turned fully into despair. Mingyu couldn’t handle the thought of Seungcheol being angry at him. He knew that he was in the wrong, had beaten himself up about hurting Jihoon all night, and he knew that he’d have to admit that and apologize and probably have to do some favor that Seungcheol asked of him. But he was prepared to make that sacrifice, getting on his bike and riding over to Seungcheol’s house. 

Seungcheol wasn’t home, his parents said. Part of Mingyu had been expecting that. Seungcheol had effectively moved out of his family home, renting a large loft apartment a neighborhood away. That had been Mingyu’s next stop anyway, but he still thanked the Chois for excusing his disturbance of their evening before getting back on his bike.

Thankfully, all signs pointed to Seungcheol being at his apartment. Mingyu parked his bike next to Seungcheol’s in the parking lot and sent him a quick text. 

_I’m at ur place. Ok if I come up?_

After two minutes with no reply, Mingyu sent him two more messages, one with a desire to talk, the other with a hint of an apology. When five minutes had passed since he’d arrived with no reply, Mingyu tried to call him. The call rang out completely before going to voicemail but Mingyu didn’t bother leaving one, calling two more times instead. No luck. When ten full minutes had passed and Mingyu had still gotten nothing from Seungcheol, he decided he didn’t care about politeness anymore. Seungcheol might be mad and not want to talk to him, but Mingyu knew where his hide-a-key was and had no qualms about breaking and entering. 

He stepped through the front door, not bothering to be quiet about it. If Seungcheol was asleep or something, he would need to wake up for them to talk anyway, and Mingyu was more willing to wake Seungcheol up and face his wrath than let this sit and fester. He didn’t think being Seungcheol’s friend for so long had done such a number on him, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he sat down and talked this out. 

“You--you what? You like the mirror on my wall?” Seungcheol’s voice was tired and amused, so affectionate in tone that Mingyu’s step faltered. Seungcheol was talking to someone, and he sounded hilariously smitten. It was weird, finding out that Seungcheol was in a relationship, was in a relationship with someone and had decided to keep it hidden from all of them. The reason why was obvious though, when the person he was speaking to responded, the voice freezing Mingyu in his tracks. 

“You keep smiling every time I kiss your neck. I can see it in the mirror.” 

It wasn’t the words that made him pause, though they weren’t what Mingyu was expecting to hear. Part of Mingyu hadn’t been expecting anything, thinking that Seungcheol was on the phone. But he recognized the voice. 

“Hey!” Seungcheol sounded a little whiny, embarrassed and enamored at once, a tone that Mingyu had never, ever heard from him. “Don’t watch me.” 

“But I want to watch you.” The voice was happy and equally affectionate. “Did you know you have a mole on the back of your neck?” 

“Jeonghan…”

“It’s cute; I like it. It’s right here.” 

There was the sound of lips on skin and Mingyu had heard more than enough, turning the corner into Seungcheol’s bedroom. He’d expected to see Jeonghan in Seungcheol’s room. He’d expected them to be on Seungcheol’s bed, kissing or something. He didn’t expect to see both of them in the bed and very naked--only visibly so from the waist up, but Seungcheol’s thin sheets weren’t leaving a whole lot to the imagination--Seungcheol wrapped in Jeonghan’s arms. 

“Since when are you the little spoon?” Mingyu asked, watching his friend scramble up into a sitting position. He would have laughed at the expression on Seungcheol’s face, and almost wanted to, but there was a spark of anger in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was because Seungcheol had been here, doing _this_ while Mingyu had been in a mess of emotional turmoil about their relationship, or because he was with Jeonghan, of all people. Probably a heavy dose of both. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Seungcheol asked. He very nearly got out of bed, then seemed to remember that he was completely naked and pulled the bed sheet up to his chest instead. “How did you get in?” 

“I’ve been one of your best friends for years. I know where your fucking key is.” Mingyu told him. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened today. If you hadn’t been too busy to look at your phone, you would have known I was coming.” 

Jeonghan still hadn’t said anything, which Mingyu was glad for, because him speaking meant that he was actually here, and Mingyu couldn’t really deal with more than one thing at a time right now. But it was very hard to ignore the second naked body in the room, and eventually Mingyu had to look at him. 

“Hey, Mingyu.” Jeonghan, for one of the first times that Mingyu had ever seen, looked awkward. “Jihoon and I are both glad that you didn’t knock any of his teeth out, by the way.” 

Seungcheol looked at Jeonghan in disbelief, and Jeonghan gave him a look back. 

“You said that naked and in a place we weren’t supposed to be wasn’t how you wanted your friends to find out about us. This really couldn’t be going much worse.” 

“I can’t believe this!” Mingyu felt his jaw clench, his fingers curling into fists. “I can’t believe--I was worried. I was worried about you, and you were in your fucking apartment having sex.” The two of them were just sitting there, letting him yell at them, and for some reason the lack of rebuff made him even angrier. “How long?” 

“How… Long?” Seungcheol asked hesitantly. Mingyu was going to fucking kill him. 

“How long has this been going on?” 

They were both silent, both very hesitant to answer the question, and that somehow gave away the answer before Seungcheol finally decided to speak. 

“Since high school.” 

“Before or after what happened with Jihoon?” 

If it was before, Mingyu thought that maybe he could accept it. If they’d already been together before Jeonghan had decided to help Jihoon fuck with him, help Jihoon control him like a puppet for everyone to laugh at, because he knew that for his own reasons, his reaction to the prank wasn’t what any of them had expected. 

“After.” Jeonghan answered, his voice soft, like he knew what the word meant. What the word would do. 

“Fuck you.” Mingyu told Seungcheol. “Fuck you. And fuck you too, Jeonghan.”

“Mingyu--” It was Jeonghan that started up, Jeonghan that got out of bed, picking a cashmere blanket up off the floor and wrapping it around himself the best he could. “Mingyu, I need to talk to you.” 

“Sure you do.” Mingyu turned, feeling his fingernails digging into his palms, feeling his shoulders hunch. He needed to leave. He needed to get this anger out of his body somehow. The idea that he’d come over to apologize was laughable now. 

“I’m serious. Please; it’s about Jihoon.” 

“Don’t.” Mingyu snapped at him. “Fucking do not even--I don’t want to hear anything about Jihoon.” 

“Mingyu--” Jeonghan tried again, but Mingyu was out the door. The cool night air hit the back of his throat and he tried to breathe it in, tried to do something that wasn’t yell or hit something. He passed his motorcycle and left it there, not trusting himself with that much speed when he was this angry, walking without any idea of where he wanted to go. Just… Out of there. 

He didn’t hear Jeonghan come up behind him. It was nearly a half hour since he’d left Seungcheol’s apartment, and Mingyu had absolutely no idea where he was, but he was still too heated to really care about that yet. He didn’t hear any footsteps. Jeonghan didn’t call his name, or say anything to alert him. 

All of a sudden and all at once, Mingyu was completely blind. He stumbled, holding his hands out, tripping over something that seemed like a curb and falling hard on one knee. 

“You’ve always been so clumsy.” Jeonghan said. It had been a while since Jeonghan had talked to him alone, and the tone of his voice, lightly teasing and somehow fond all at once, made something in Mingyu’s gut twist with nostalgia. “Come on, Mingyu. Let’s go.” 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's all coming together! there's probably just going to be a light amount of cursing in every chapter from here on out so I'll stop warning for it if that's ok. this chapter is pretty long, sorry about that

Mingyu opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that his entire body felt uncomfortable, realizing a second later that it was because he'd been asleep sitting up in a rigid wooden chair. The light streaming through the window on his right was very bright, making him squint as he glanced around. He didn't know where he was, and the room he was in didn't offer any hints; it was surprisingly bare, the only other piece of furniture a small card table. Sitting on the table were two things: an old phone that looked like a set piece from a black-and-white movie, and Lee Jihoon. 

Jihoon, examining his fingernails, spared him a glance when Mingyu raised his head. 

"Morning, sunshine." 

While the words did have a bit of a mocking tone to them, they were also soft and slightly inquisitive; nothing like the way Jihoon usually spoke. Mingyu wanted to respond, but couldn't think of a single thing to say. He felt... Well, starstruck was a stupid word, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd been alone with Jihoon, and it was slightly suffocating. Especially with the way Jihoon looked, with his dark hair and sharp eyes. Seeing how nice he looked almost made Mingyu regret the purple bruise that stretched over his left cheekbone, and he glanced away. 

Mingyu didn't know how he'd gotten where he was now, but knew it had something to do with all of Jeonghan's friends; the combined abilities of Jeonghan, Jihoon, Seokmin, and Wonwoo were more than enough to transport him from one place to another in what seemed like roughly six hours without Mingyu having any knowledge of where he was or how he'd gotten there. Jihoon picked his cell phone up off the table next to him, typed something, then locked it and set it back down. 

"Hi." Mingyu finally said, and Jihoon raised an eyebrow at him. 

"...that's it?" 

"What, I can't say hi to you now?" 

Jihoon glanced away, swallowed, then put his eyes back on Mingyu's face. 

"I... No, you can. I--I just--"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off as Jeonghan, Seokmin, and Wonwoo entered the room. Seeing Jeonghan brought the events of the night before back into sharp focus, and Mingyu couldn't help but scowl at him. 

"Where the hell am I?" he asked. "And you--really? You kidnapped me?" 

"Welcome to the inside of Wonwoo's house." Jeonghan told him. "I said I needed to talk to you. I said it was important." 

Sure, Jeonghan had said all of that, but Mingyu had assumed it had been some attempt at distracting him, that Jeonghan was just trying to unbalance him by bringing Jihoon's name into the conversation. But blinding him and fully kidnapping him was doing the opposite of making Mingyu feel better about Jeonghan and Seungcheol's secret relationship, so it had to be something else.

Mingyu looked over to Jihoon again. Jihoon had the usual facade of indifference on his face, but the look wasn't quite strong enough; Mingyu could still read him, and could tell that there was something extremely fragile just below the surface. Mingyu didn't know what was going on, but if it made Jihoon look like that, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"I didn't care then, and I don't care now, so I'm leaving." He moved to stand, Wonwoo stepping forwards. 

"Please don't make me hold you in that chair." He said. "I don't want to, but I will." 

"All we need is for you to listen to something." Seokmin said quickly, his tone more diplomatic. "Just to listen to it, and tell us if you know anything about it." 

"Why in the hell would I help you?" Mingyu asked, getting to his feet. His body ached from however long he'd been sitting down, and he briefly wondered how long Jihoon had been watching him sleep. "Why would I do anything when you people knocked me out and dragged me here?" 

"We let you sleep for a little while." Jeonghan said, in a slightly defensive tone.

"Please." The word made Mingyu freeze. It was Jihoon, and he was holding the old phone in his hands, looking down at it for just a moment before meeting Mingyu's eyes. "It has something to do with you. It's about you, and... And me." 

Mingyu sat back down. 

"This phone--it's like that grey cell phone." Jeonghan began, taking the phone from Jihoon's hands. He was the only one moving, the only one in the room not staring at Jihoon. "It--"

"I know what the grey phone is." Mingyu interrupted. Jihoon looking scared, a time-phone, Seokmin wanting him to listen to something… This was all getting worse by the minute. Mingyu wanted to run. "I know what it does." 

"This phone got a voicemail on it two days ago." Jeonghan said. "We wanted to know if you knew anything about what happens in it." 

"And what, I'm in it?" Mingyu asked. 

"Not--well, you don't say anything." Seokmin told him. "Here, you just..." He trailed off as he turned to the phone, taking it and setting it on the table again before winding the dial back. The voicemail started. 

It was Jihoon's voice. Jihoon was saying his name, quiet at first, getting fearful before becoming loud and fully upset. He was begging, he was sobbing, and the sound of it made Mingyu sick to his stomach. 

"Mingyu, please--please, I love you, you can't--you have to--" 

Mingyu didn't want to hear Jihoon in such hysterics, his chest tight, shock running through him at the confession. The Jihoon in the voicemail didn't seem to hear the words, the "I love you" slipping out as unequivocally and desperately as everything else. They were noticed by the current Jihoon though, the Jihoon that was in the room with him, who looked away as soon as Mingyu looked up at him. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes on the floor and to Mingyu, something about seeing Jihoon so closed off and visibly distressed, unable to pull himself together enough to hide how upset he was, was almost worse than hearing him in the voicemail at all. 

"Seokmin, let me _go!"_

At those words, Mingyu’s eyes snapped to the phone. He knew those words; he'd heard them in Soonyoung's voicemail too. Jihoon, shouting and crying, Mingyu realizing that what he'd just listened to was nothing more than the lead up to what had been in the voicemail on Soonyoung's phone. Another voicemail of the same event.

The voicemail ended, the four of them looking at him with varying amounts of expectation. 

"...what?" He finally asked them all. "What do you want me to say?" 

"Do you know anything about what that's supposed to mean?" Wonwoo asked, and Mingyu realized that these people thought he knew a lot more than he did. Well, that was new. Usually it was the other way around. 

"Why, because I'm in it? From the sound of things I'm busy dying, and for some reason, Jihoon is upset about it." 

Mingyu couldn't--he couldn't take the voicemails too seriously for the sake of his own sanity, but maybe his tone had been too casual; Jihoon glanced up to glare at him. The look was wounded and unexpectedly raw, Mingyu feeling an apology on the tip of his tongue that he just barely managed to close his lips over. 

"Mingyu." Jeonghan said. "Please." 

"Don't you have someone else you could ask?" Mingyu snapped at him. He still wasn't really in the mood to see, hear, or think about Jeonghan. "I don't know anything more than you people do, okay? Soonyoung had one of these phones too, and we got a voicemail like this. It sounded like Seungcheol and I were hurt. Seungkwan called an ambulance. Jeonghan was there. I don't--I don't know anything else." 

They all looked around at each other, and Mingyu could tell that either they didn't believe him, or he hadn't answered the right question.

"Why did… Why did Jihoon sound like that?" Wonwoo asked him. 

"Why did--" Mingyu's throat felt dry. _Why would Jihoon say he loved you?_ "Why are you asking me? How would I know?" 

The four of them looked at each other again, Seokmin's voice hesitant, private in a way that meant he didn't intend for Mingyu to hear, but the room was too small for that. 

"Should I?"

No one responded but Mingyu knew immediately what those words meant, rising from his chair. 

"No." He started.. "Don't--"

"Sit back down." Seokmin told him. The words weren't said like a command though, flowing sweetly through his lips instead. Seokmin’s voice was smooth, beautiful, and a heavy brick of dread fell into Mingyu's stomach. Not this. Anything but this. "Just sit down. We only want to talk to you. We'll ask you a few questions, and then you can go home." 

Mingyu felt himself nodding. It was like a wave had passed through his mind, washing over everything, clearing thought away and leaving a light emptiness in its place. The effect wasn't sudden, wasn't focused and sharp and intentioned like his father's persuasion ability was; Seokmin's hypnosis settled softly through Mingyu's entire body, stretching through his limbs, slow and calming. Seokmin was a hypnotist too, like Seungkwan was. Seokmin, however, didn't need to sing for his ability to work. His voice was soothing all on its own, and as long as his tone stayed steady and fluid, he could maintain control. Also unlike Seungkwan, Seokmin was already good at it. Mingyu was sitting in the chair before he'd realized his limbs were moving. 

"What does the voicemail mean?" Seokmin asked him. 

"I don't know." Mingyu said the words because they were true. He didn't actually know. He was also absolutely furious about this, but didn't have enough awareness to act on his anger. He was only grateful that he was good enough at resisting the lull of control to stay somewhat cognizant while it was happening. He couldn't not do what Seokmin asked of him, but he knew that at least he would be able to remember it. 

"You don't know?" Seokmin pressed. 

"I know it means I'm going to die." Mingyu said. "I'm going to die, because that's what the voicemails mean. And that's what it sounds like. I'm going to die soon. Maybe Seungcheol too. Maybe that guy named Junhui. There's three voicemails now. There's three of us." 

"Do you know where the voicemail is happening? Do you know how to stop it?"

This time, Mingyu tried to fight the feel of Seokmin's voice in his mind, tried to keep his mouth closed just to see if he could. The answer came from him after a moment of struggle that left him dizzy. 

"No." 

"What about Jihoon?" Seokmin asked. 

Jihoon. _Jihoon._ Mingyu felt his awareness slipping. 

"I miss Jihoon." He heard himself say. "I miss Jihoon. I always miss him. I miss him so much that it hurts." 

"Do you know why he sounded so upset?" 

"Because he's always upset over me." Mingyu didn't know, specifically, about the way Jihoon sounded in the voicemail, but he knew why Jihoon was upset every single other time that Mingyu was involved. "Making Jihoon upset is the only way he'll look at me. I want him to look at me." Looking wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough, but now that things were all screwed up, it was all Mingyu had. "I want him to touch me." 

"Seokmin." Jihoon's voice was sharp, almost enough to pull Mingyu from the hypnosis all on its own. "Stop." 

"Sorry." Seokmin's voice was back to its normal speaking tone, and the anger Mingyu had over what had just been done to him all rushed through him at once. Jeonghan put a hand on Seokmin's arm. 

"You should go." He said softly. Seokmin didn't need to be told twice, not even looking at Mingyu as he made his way out. Wonwoo followed behind him. Jeonghan and Jihoon both stayed, Jeonghan immediately pulling out his phone and tapping at it. Mingyu sat there, his jaw working. He could feel Jihoon watching him, but for maybe the first time in his life, he couldn’t look back. 

“What the fuck was that?” He asked instead, his eyes on Jihoon’s feet as Jihoon took a step back. 

“We need to talk to the others.” Jeonghan was fully ignoring him, his voice serious as he spoke. “We need to see if they’ll meet us; maybe they’ll bring their new friends and those guys will know where Minghao went, because he still hasn’t come back. Apparently there are three voicemails, and we’ve only heard two.” 

“You can’t listen to the third one.” Mingyu said, because he wanted to say something to upset Jeonghan.

“Why?” Jeonghan glanced up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Because you’re not going to give me Soonyoung’s phone number or something?” 

“Because it doesn’t exist anymore.” Mingyu spat at him. “Soonyoung’s time-phone is broken. Seungkwan broke it. It doesn’t work.” 

Jeonghan looked at him for a moment while he digested that information. 

“Okay.” He finally said. “Still, we should meet them somewhere. What’s Soonyoung’s current number, Mingyu?” 

“Why do you want to call Soonyoung?” Mingyu asked him, acutely aware that Jihoon was in the room for his next words. “You don’t have to pretend so hard, Jeonghan. You and I both know you have a perfectly good number that will get you in touch with the group.”

Again, Jeonghan only blinked at him for a few seconds.

“Well, I’d rather talk to Soonyoung about this, so I’ll just try the number he had in high school. Maybe he hasn’t changed it.” 

“And while we’re talking about it, why me?” Mingyu continued, not realizing how valid of a question it was until it was out of his mouth. “Why take me here? Nothing I’ve said has surprised you. None of what I know are things you haven’t already heard. Why go through the trouble of snatching me off the street? Just to keep everyone fooled?” 

Jeonghan’s facial expression didn’t change much, but when he spoke again, his tone made it obvious that Mingyu had struck some sort of nerve, probably because Jihoon was still there. Satisfaction curled in Mingyu’s stomach. 

“I was thinking that maybe, something else was going on.” Jeonghan answered, sounding terse. “Something that Jihoon didn’t tell me about. Obviously not, though. At least, not as much as you want there to be. I know that you’re mad at me, but stop acting like a brat. It doesn’t look good on you.” 

Mingyu felt his jaw clench. Jeonghan was going to stand there and throw things that he’d said while under hypnosis back in his face, as though he had nothing to lose. Fine then. Two could play at that game. 

“He has to be good in bed.” He said, Jeonghan raising an eyebrow at him. “There can’t be anything else; you got him to betray my trust just because you wanted him to fuck you.” 

The words didn’t get nearly the reaction Mingyu was expecting. Jeonghan just crossed his arms. 

“Why do you think he’s the one fucking me?” He asked back, and before Mingyu could even try to think of a response, Jihoon spoke up.

“Really?” He asked. “I’m right here. Just because I know about you and Seungcheol doesn’t mean I want to hear about it.” 

“...you know?” Mingyu couldn’t hide his surprise, the shock of that taking the edge off his anger a bit. Considering he’d been mad at Jeonghan for the past eight hours straight, it was a significant thing. 

“You found out last night. That doesn’t mean it’s news.” Jihoon said flatly.

“Jihoon is the only other person that knows.” Jeonghan said. “But you can tell whoever you want, if you’re really in the mood to be malicious. We were hiding it for your benefit, but now that you know, I don’t really care anymore.” 

“How do you know?” Mingyu asked Jihoon. 

“Jeonghan told me.” Jihoon pushed himself off the table top and onto his feet. “Last year. I was so worried about you being in the hospital that Jeonghan gave me updates about how you were doing. When I asked him where he was getting the information from, he tried to lie for about five seconds before caving and telling me.” 

Jihoon hadn’t looked at Mingyu the whole time he was speaking and he didn’t look at him now, instead making his way to the door. He spoke again when Mingyu didn’t answer, feeling too stunned to respond.

“You can leave whenever you want.”

Then he was gone, Jeonghan quickly following after him.

_**13** _

Jeonghan felt that between what Seungcheol had told him, what Minghao had told him, and what Mingyu had told him, he had the clearest idea about was going to happen. Which was extremely frustrating, because he had absolutely no idea at all of what was going to happen.

He wanted to meet up with the others. All of the others; he wanted to see Seungcheol. He wanted to talk to Soonyoung. He wanted to hug Seungkwan, because from what he’d heard, Seungkwan really needed a hug. He wanted to talk to these new people that Seungcheol had told him about last night, because if nothing else, they had a different perspective on everything than he did. They had more experience with this time travel, voicemail thing. They had to know something. 

They had to, because Jeonghan didn’t know nearly enough, and he was starting to get scared. 

“How mad is he at me?” Seokmin asked as soon as he and Jihoon had stepped out into the living room. He looked like he’d been pacing, while Wonwoo was standing by the door like some kind of sentry. “Does he like… Want to kill me or something?”

“He’s not happy, but I think you’ll be fine.” Jeonghan answered, taking a seat on the couch. “I want to call Soonyoung. I want to meet up with everyone and talk about what’s happening, because I think that whatever it is, it’s happening to all of us. Does that sound okay?”

They all answered affirmatively, and Jeonghan turned his attention back to his phone. Truth be told, Mingyu was right. He could just call Seungcheol, but Seungcheol would be nervous about telling everyone about their relationship without discussing it between the two of them first. So he would have to think up something to get his friends to meet with them, and it would be a lie, and he would tell it very, very badly. So Jeonghan wanted to talk to Soonyoung instead. 

He had to scroll far down his recent messages to find a text thread between himself and Soonyoung. It was maybe two months after everything between Mingyu and Jihoon had gone down, back when they were all still hoping against hope that things between the two of them would somehow work themselves out and they could all be friends again. Soonyoung’s contact name was, of course, his own name, followed by a tiger face emoji and a heart. Jeonghan couldn’t help but smile at the most recent--recent was relative, but still--message that Soonyoung had sent him.

_Give Jihoon a kiss on the head for me! Just don’t tell him it was from me or he might hit you away..._

It was followed by a laughing emoji, and three kiss emojis in a row. Jeonghan had sent a kiss emoji back, but he couldn’t remember if he’d actually followed through with Soonyoung’s request or not. He tapped the contact name, then pressed the “call” button, putting his phone on speaker so they could all hear it. 

The phone rang a good number of times before it was answered, Soonyoung’s voice very hesitant. 

“...Jeonghan?” 

“Oh.” Jeonghan was fairly certain that Soonyoung didn’t have his cell phone number memorized. Which meant that Soonyoung had kept his contact, despite them not officially being friends anymore. Jeonghan now had a lot more hope that this interaction might just go well. “Hi.” 

“You’re calling me.” Soonyoung said, and Jeonghan grinned. 

“Yeah, I am. I wanted to talk to you; is that okay?”

“...yeah, it’s okay.” Soonyoung still sounded confused. “It’s just weird, I guess.” 

“A little bit.” Jeonghan didn’t really know how to lead into what he wanted to ask, but didn’t end up needing to, Soonyoung speaking up again. 

“It’s just--it’s weird because… Well, have you seen Mingyu?” Soonyoung asked. “Seungcheol asked me to try to call him, and he sounded kind of freaked out. Mingyu’s not at home, and none of us have seen him since yesterday. He’s not picking up his phone. He and Seungcheol got into a fight after he hit Jihoon, because both of them were upset that it happened and were yelling at each other--” Jeonghan looked up to Jihoon, watching Jihoon bring a hand up to the bruise on his face-- “and then they both stormed out.” 

“Actually--” Jeonghan started, but suddenly someone else was speaking. 

“They were yelling at each other!” 

Jeonghan tried to keep the smile from his voice, but knew it didn’t work. “Hey, Seungkwan.” 

“And his motorcycle is gone! I don’t want him to ride his motorcycle when he’s angry.” 

“I’m sure he wore his helmet.” Jeonghan said. “But that’s part of why I’m calling. Mingyu’s here, at Wonwoo’s house with us.”

“What?” Seungkwan’s voice was loud with surprise, Soonyoung cutting in quickly. 

“Did he and Jihoon--are they--”

“No.” Jeonghan said, before Soonyoung could finish the question. “Actually, it’s… It’s about the voicemails. We have a phone here too. We’ve gotten a voicemail too, and based on what we heard on that grey cell phone--you guys have it now, right?--it’s all connected. I wanted to see if you guys wanted to meet up and talk.” 

Silence. The silence was discouraging, Jeonghan speaking again. 

“We want to meet your new friends, too. I want to meet up with everyone involved. Is that okay?” 

When a few more moments had passed and neither Soonyoung or Seungkwan had responded, Jeonghan looked up at his friends. Wonwoo shrugged back, Jihoon was just looking at the phone in Jeonghan’s hand, and Seokmin seemed nervous. 

“Should I say something?” Seokmin whispered, but before Jeonghan could answer, Soonyoung was back. 

“Jeonghan, why is Mingyu at Wonwoo’s house?” 

“Because…” Jeonghan searched the floor with his eyes as he thought. He was bad at thinking on his feet, and he knew it. “Because Jihoon is here. He wanted to apologize to Jihoon.” He glanced up at Jihoon as he spoke, and Jihoon gave a small nod back; an agreement to play along with the lie if asked about it. 

“But how did he know that Jihoon would be at Wonwoo’s? Wouldn’t he go to Jihoon’s apartment?” 

“I ran into him. I was out, and he was out, and I saw him--I already knew Jihoon wasn’t home, so…” 

“...okay.” Soonyoung said after a moment of silence, and Jeonghan winced. There was a slight exclamation on the other line, followed by Seungkwan saying “hello?” at a bit of a distance. The next time Seungkwan spoke though, he was leaning into the receiver. 

“Uh, Jeonghan? Mingyu just called me. He said that you’re lying.” 

Jeonghan stifled a curse, glancing over to the doorway of the spare room, half expecting Mingyu to walk out. He didn’t, but Jeonghan didn’t really blame him; they’d done a number on him to get him to Wonwoo’s, and he probably needed a couple more hours than they’d given him to properly sleep it off. 

“Could you all just please come over? This all sounds really serious, doesn’t it? Everything that’s going on. Doesn’t it seem really important?”

“Vernon said he definitely doesn’t want to go to Wonwoo’s house.” Seungkwan reported, and Jeonghan suppressed a sigh. 

“But you are okay with meeting somewhere then? Where do you want to go?” 

They were silent across the line for a couple more moments, Jeonghan running a hand through his hair as he listened to them mutter to each other. Finally, again, Seungkwan spoke. 

“There’s a parking garage that my dad’s company is putting up across town; it’s closer to you than to us. It isn’t being worked on this weekend, so it’ll be empty. We were going to go there anyway. Let’s just meet up.” 

“Okay.” Jeonghan agreed. He didn’t know what parking garage Seungkwan was talking about, but they could figure that out. Mingyu might know, and he might even tell them if Jihoon gave him the puppy dog eyes again. “See you in an hour?” 

“Sure. One hour.” Soonyoung said, and Jeonghan hung up.

“So.” Mingyu was in the doorway now, looking out into the room, leaning slightly against the wood. “Who am I riding with?” 

  
  


_**14** _

There were six people already in the parking garage when Vernon rolled up to the third floor of the place with Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and the rest of his friends. The only three whose names he knew were Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Jihoon; the other three were a mystery, and Vernon was nervous about not knowing which one was Wonwoo. 

Not for a lack of trying, though. Seungkwan had gathered him, Joshua, Junhui, and Chan around his phone screen once Soonyoung had hung up and told them what they were doing--that they were meeting up with "the others" at the parking garage that Seungkwan had mentioned--showing them all pictures and telling them names. But the photos on Seungkwan's phone and the people in front of him looked different, and Vernon was wracking his brain in an attempt to remember what those names even were. 

Mingyu was standing between Jihoon and someone who looked vaguely familiar, Vernon wanting to say his name started with an 's', a lot of his facial features thin. When Soonyoung and Seungkwan rolled their bikes to a stop next to Seungcheol though, he walked over to them instead. 

"You okay?" Soonyoung asked, and Vernon could see why. Mingyu looked tired, his movements slow, his posture slightly collapsed. It seemed as though Mingyu didn't know how he looked, because when Soonyoung asked, he took stock of himself and straightened up, nodding a bit. 

"...when did he get here?" Chan asked Vernon quietly, pointing to Seungcheol, and Vernon could only shrug back. Seungkwan had called Seungcheol after Soonyoung had retreated into the house, saying he needed to change clothes, his given reason being "just in case". Vernon didn't know what kind of "just in case" situation they would run into where it would be beneficial for Soonyoung to be wearing what was probably the baggiest shirt and pair of sweatpants he'd ever seen instead of normal clothes, but he didn't really want to ask, slightly afraid of the answer. 

"Maybe he was just... faster?" Vernon offered, despite the big deal Seungkwan had made about Seungcheol living the farthest away, and that they would all probably have to wait for him, and that stalling around without him would be weird. 

"Should we all introduce ourselves?" One of the strangers asked, stepping forwards. He had a splint supporting two of the fingers on his right hand, and was looking right at Vernon, but there was no recognition on his face at all. "You four are the new friends right? Staying at Soonyoung's house?" 

It felt a little strange, being called a "friend" by someone he didn't know, but Vernon nodded anyway. They'd stayed overnight at Soonyoung's, who had shown them all to four individual guest bedrooms that were overwhelmingly fancy. Instead of being separated, they'd all decided to convene in Junhui's room. It was partially because Chan thought that Junhui shouldn't be alone, and partially because Joshua thought that if they didn't keep an eye on Junhui, he might run off and try to look for Minghao again. Not that they didn't want to find Minghao, but Junhui wandering around a strange neighborhood at night in his distraught emotional state was bound to do more harm than good. 

"I'm Junhui." Junhui offered first, stepping forwards, Vernon looking at him in surprise. Junhui wasn't usually this straightforward. Granted, he also wasn't usually on a mission to find the love of his life, either. The one with the wrapped fingers nodded a little. 

"Minghao said a lot of nice things about you." He said, and Vernon saw Junhui's jaw clench. "I'm Jeonghan." 

Chan and Joshua also introduced themselves, along with the two on Jeonghan's right: Seokmin and Jihoon. The only stranger left, the one on Jeonghan's left, stepped up next. He had thin limbs, sharp features, and dark hair.

"I'm Wonwoo." 

Vernon blinked in surprise. With everything he'd heard about Wonwoo, he'd expected someone hulking and mean-looking. Someone at least taller or more muscular than Mingyu, since he'd apparently almost punched Mingyu to death. Wonwoo looked... nice, really. 

"I'm Vernon." Vernon offered, stepping up so that he was out from behind the handles of his bike. He got a clearer view of the room, of the empty lot of concrete, something about the image making him pause. The place looked familiar, though he knew he'd never been here before. 

He met eyes with Joshua as he stepped back, hoping that Joshua would maybe know something, remember something he didn't, but Joshua just looked back, his eyebrows tilted slightly in concern. 

“I… I’m the one that wanted all of us to talk.” Jeonghan began. He looked hesitant to be speaking in front of everyone, but was making himself do it anyway. “We don’t all know each other, but whatever is happening, we’re all part of it. By the sound of things, each of us have gotten different pieces of the puzzle, and I think it would be good to try putting it all together.” In the corner of his eye, Vernon saw Junhui nodding. “There are a lot of things that I think we need to talk about.” 

Jeonghan looked over at Seungcheol then, and the expression that Seungcheol was looking back at him with was so much that Vernon couldn’t help but look over at Joshua. Joshua nodded slightly, raising his eyebrows, and it took Vernon a moment to remember. Secret boyfriend. Right. 

“I’ll start.” Mingyu offered, stepping forwards. He pointed at Jeonghan. “Those four kidnapped me and hypnotized me because they thought I was the one here keeping secrets. I told them about our voicemail, and that our phone is broken.” 

Seungkwan’s mouth fell open. Seokmin winced a bit. 

“What are you doing, letting them kidnap you?” Soonyoung asked Mingyu. He had a slightly teasing tone to his voice, like he was trying to keep the mood light, but it didn’t quite work. That seemed to be a running theme with Soonyoung, though Vernon had the feeling that if the situations they were in were a little less serious, he would be much more successful in making people laugh at the jokes he made. 

“We met and talked with Minghao.” Wonwoo said. “He came by my house yesterday looking for Seokmin. He had a grey cell phone with a voicemail on it.” 

“That phone is mine.” Chan spoke up. “We’ve heard the voicemail, and they heard the voicemail--” he pointed at Soonyoung and Seungkwan; Vernon had told him about playing it for them-- “Did you guys…?”

Jeonghan nodded. “We’ve heard it. And while Minghao was at Wonwoo’s, he turned one of Seokmin’s phones into a time-phone thing, and it got a voicemail too.”

“What was in it?” Vernon asked. He hadn’t known there was a third voicemail, hoping that it added something. 

“It just confirms that I’m going to die.” Mingyu said, before anyone else could answer. Joshua brought a hand up to his mouth, but he wasn’t looking at Mingyu; his eyes were to the right, where Jihoon and Seokmin were standing. 

“I’ve been trying to put it together, because it’s all the same scene.” Jeonghan said. “Who all is there. It’s Jihoon, Seokmin, Mingyu…”

He began listing names. Jihoon, Seokmin, Mingyu, Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Junhui, Minghao, Seungkwan, Joshua, and himself. Everyone there now, except for Vernon, Wonwoo, and Chan. 

“Oh, do I count? I don’t say anything.” Mingyu pointed out. 

“No, but… Well…” Jeonghan’s voice was a bit hesitant. “We know your body is there.” 

“Thanks.” Mingyu said, his tone dry. 

“Have…” Junhui’s voice was fragile. “Have you guys seen Minghao since…?”

He didn’t finish the question, but Vernon knew what he meant; since he’d run off. Everyone knew what he meant, and Jeonghan shook his head. 

“I was hoping he would be with you.” He answered. “He never came back.” 

“He was never with us.” Joshua said. “He disappeared.” 

Seokmin frowned. “Disappeared? He can do that?”

“We didn’t think so.” Joshua said, but before anyone could elaborate, Vernon heard a familiar sound. Somewhere, echoing, a phone was ringing. They all paused, looking around at each other, before Wonwoo turned completely around. 

“I think… It’s over there.” He said, pointing ahead now. “It’s somewhere up there.” 

He was pointing to the path that led up to the fourth floor of the parking garage, and Vernon took a step forward. 

“I… I don’t know.” Seungkwan said quickly. “This place… It’s still being built, it’s not safe--”

“Exactly.” Mingyu was in motion as well. “It has to be important then, right? Why else would a phone be ringing up there?”

“But--” 

Mingyu being on the move set everyone else in motion, Vernon jogging ahead. There was a tug at the back of his mind, how familiar the whole place seemed, so persistent that it was distracting. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been here before. He also knew that he’d never been here in his entire life.

When they reached the fourth floor, Vernon could understand Seungkwan’s concern. This floor was much less developed than the three below it, all exposed rebar and unpainted concrete. There were scraps of metal and various tools lying around, ready to be used when construction started up at the beginning of the work week. In the middle was a giant, half-empty wire spool, and resting on top of the spool was a red rotary phone, ringing loudly. 

They all crowded around it, but all seemed to get apprehensive at the same time, slowing when there were a couple of feet left between them and the phone. It was still ringing, the sound incessant, and that--along with the way that the phone was not plugged into anything--made it obvious that this phone probably didn’t have anyone on the other line. That instead of a call, there was a voicemail waiting for them. 

“Is someone going to answer it?” Soonyoung finally asked. Hair was standing up on the back of Vernon’s neck and he reached out, touching the base of the phone instead and closing his eyes. 

When the vision started, it was dark; glow from the moon and reflections from street lights below were the only things illuminating the inside of the parking garage. Minghao was there, his thin form barely more than a shadow, the red phone already placed on the spool. Minghao was gripping it tightly, his face pained and his knuckles white with effort. The areas of the phone under Minghao’s hands didn’t look right, wavy in some way, almost fuzzy to Vernon’s eyes, like he couldn’t get his vision to focus. Then the distortion seemed to move, seemed to travel up Minghao’s arms, his entire form wavering, glitching like a computer program, blurred and stuttering. Minghao’s mouth opened into a yell that Vernon couldn’t hear, then he disappeared completely. 

Vernon came back to the sound of the red phone still ringing, and he took a fast step away, bumping into Joshua’s chest. For whatever reason, Minghao had put his power into this phone. A lot of it. Too much. 

“What happened?” Junhui asked. Vernon turned to glance back at him, and it was Junhui’s clothes--his clothes and the backdrop of the parking garage behind him--that had it all clicking into place. 

This parking garage was the same place Vernon always saw in his visions, whenever he touched Minghao. This was where Minghao’s ability always seemed to end. The parking garage was going to collapse, and they were all just standing around in it. 

“We need to get out of here.” He answered, and Joshua reached out, gripping his arm. 

“Why?” Seokmin asked. “What’s happening? What’s going on?” 

“Minghao was here.” Vernon told Junhui. “He put the phone here, and he…” Vernon didn’t know how to explain it, but wasn’t sure that it would matter; upon hearing Minghao’s name, Junhui’s eyes locked on the red phone, and Vernon wouldn’t be surprised if Junhui wasn’t even listening. 

“Well, shouldn’t we answer it, then?” Seungkwan asked. “If it’s a time-phone, shouldn’t we listen to the voicemail?” 

“We should answer it.” Jeonghan agreed with a nod. “Minghao told us that he wanted all the information he could get; the voicemail could be helpful.” 

“Plus, the phone isn’t going to stop ringing.” Mingyu said. “Someone needs to answer it.” 

“Don’t--” Vernon tried to say, reaching out towards the phone again, his fingertips not doing much more than touching the base by the time Seungkwan, who was across from him and equally close, grabbed the handset and brought it up to his ear.

“Hello?” He asked, then his eyes went wide. Vernon watched him, apprehension in his chest, and a moment later Seungkwan began yelling. “There’s someone there! Someone is on the phone, they said hello back to me, they--” 

He cut himself off, and it took Vernon a moment to figure out why. He’d been too caught up in Seungkwan to notice, too distracted by how loud he was being, by how somehow, someone was on the other line. But when Seungkwan noticed it, his voice dying in his throat, Vernon noticed it too. 

Everyone around them had frozen. Mingyu’s mouth was half open, Chan mid-blink, Wonwoo in the process of reaching towards Seungkwan. It was completely silent. 

“What… Why are you still moving?” Seungkwan asked Vernon hesitantly.

“Because I’m touching the phone, I think.” Vernon said. He looked to his left, and seeing Joshua completely still--not moving, blinking, or even breathing--put an anxious dip in his stomach. “Who did you speak to, Seungkwan?” 

“I don’t know.” Seungkwan brought the phone back up to his ear; he’d pulled it away in shock when someone had spoken back to him. “It was just this guy’s voice, and he only said one word, I don’t…” After a moment of listening, he looked back at Vernon. “No one is there now.” 

“You should hang up, I think.” Vernon said. “Hang up the phone.” 

Seungkwan’s eyes were big, but after a moment, he did as Vernon said. The instant the handset reconnected to the phone, another ringing noise went off. It wasn’t the red phone though, and it took a moment of searching to see a yellow payphone rigged to the wall of the parking garage, wires pooling from it and across the floor. 

“I… I don’t want--” Seungkwan started, Vernon interrupting him. 

“I’ll answer it.” He said. “Just…” 

Gingerly, he removed his fingers from the red phone. He expected… He expected something to happen when he lost contact with the red phone, despite not really knowing what, but everything was the same, Seungkwan watching him with nervous eyes. It took a little twisting to get his arm from Joshua’s grip, Vernon desperate to be delicate with him, but when he got himself free he jogged over, picking up the payphone’s receiver. 

“Hello?” 

“Vernon? Is that you?”

“...Minghao?” His friend’s voice was easily recognizable, but hearing him felt too impossible to be true. It was an absolute relief. “Where are you? Are you okay?” 

“I… I don’t know where I am. I don’t know when I am.” Minghao sounded slightly out of breath, and Vernon hoped desperately that he wasn’t injured somehow. “I messed up. I’m so sorry. Everything is wrong.”

“It’s okay.” Vernon told him. “It’s like I said, remember? We’ll fix it. You just need to let us help you, Minghao.” 

“I wanted to get rid of it.” Minghao said. “I didn’t want my ability anymore, so I thought… I thought that maybe, I could just empty it. Get it all out. And I tried, but…”

“It did something to you.” Vernon said. “I… I touched the phone. I saw.” 

“I’m lost.” Minghao said. “I don’t have enough control to stay in one place, I keep moving through time, I almost got hit by a motorcycle--”

“You took the grey phone.” Vernon said. “So that’s what’s happening? You’re jumping through time?”

“Yes.” Minghao said. “Having the grey phone is helping, and I… I have this white phone that I managed to turn. I’m using it now to call you.” 

“Where are you now, Minghao?” Vernon asked. “How can we get to you?” 

“I think I’m… Five years ago.” Minghao said. “I’m in my old bedroom, but I don’t think--” 

“Minghao?” 

Minghao was silent for a long moment, Vernon terrified that their connection had broken, when Minghao answered. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m--it’s hard.” Minghao let out a long breath. “I’ve been testing the power I do have, trying to see what I can do with it, and I think if I can get someone to answer the grey phone, if I can get it back to you, I’ll be able to get myself back into your timeline.” 

Vernon didn’t really understand how or why, but he knew that Minghao didn’t have enough time to explain it all to him. 

“Just tell me what I have to do.” 

“Okay.” Minghao sounded scared, but he still spoke deliberately. “Do you know who Wonwoo is? Can you get to his house?” 

“Yes.” Vernon said instantly. It was how he would have answered anything Minghao asked of him; Vernon didn’t know how to get to Wonwoo’s, but Seungkwan did, so even if the rest of them stayed frozen, Seungkwan could show him the way.

“I’m going to try to be there in ninety minutes.” Minghao said. “I’m going to leave the phone there. You need to answer it for me.” 

“Okay.” Vernon could do that. He could do that. “Is that it? Anything else you need to tell me? Anything else I need to do?” 

“I’m not sure what will happen.” Minghao said, his voice more hesitant now. “I don't know what this will do. I’m going to try to insert myself into Junhui’s timeline because… Because I’m with him, at what seems like the end of mine. If anything is going to work, it’ll be that.” 

“Ninety minutes.” Vernon swallowed. “I’ll see you then, okay?” 

“Alright--” Minghao started, but he didn’t make it even halfway through the affirmation; the line went dead, accompanied by a sort of shock wave, a pulse that made the whole parking garage shudder. Vernon felt it more than anything else, the vibration going through his body the same sensation as the thump of bass when listening to music too loud. It was like the whole room took in a breath at the same time, and whatever trance the red phone had put the space into was broken. 

Half of them were still moving towards the red phone, but Seungkwan was holding the handset down like his life depended on it, like the room might freeze if it was picked up again. It was Joshua that first noticed that something had happened, probably because he’d been holding onto Vernon just a moment ago, the passage of the time just a blink for him, except now Vernon was halfway across the room. 

“What happened?” He asked. “Why are you all the way over there?” 

More of them turned to Vernon at that, and Vernon realized he was still holding the yellow payphone, hanging it up. 

“We need to go.” Vernon said. “We need to go to Wonwoo’s house.” 

He explained it to them, explained what had happened, Seungkwan interjecting when he felt it was important. He concluded with the fact that they needed to get to Wonwoo’s now, just to be ready, and all of his friends were ready to go immediately. It was obvious, however, that the others didn’t think the matter was as urgent as they did. 

“So… Your friend is lost in time right now?” Seokmin asked, and Vernon nodded.

“We shouldn’t answer it.” Jeonghan said, his voice soft but unflinching. “We shouldn’t answer the grey phone.”

“What?” Seokmin’s face was one of surprise. “Why? If we don’t, their friend will be stuck.”

“And if he’s stuck, then none of that awful stuff will happen.” Jeonghan answered. “Everything we’ve been hearing--Mingyu dying, Seungcheol dying, this guy--” He gestured to Junhui, “--this guy dying; we know that Minghao is there for that. But if he can’t be there, then it won’t happen.” 

“But--” Joshua started, Jeonghan’s voice getting louder as he talked over him.

“We don’t even hear you.” He said to Vernon, his eyes also flicking quickly to Chan before coming back to him. “You or your friend. We don’t know if you’re there or not, but I don’t see why you wouldn’t be. Why you and Wonwoo wouldn’t be. So whatever happens, it probably kills you. If we answer the phone… Why would we take that chance?” 

“Jeonghan.” Seungcheol’s voice was hesitant. “Their friend, we can’t just leave him--”

“I don’t care.” Jeonghan’s voice had an edge of desperation to it, walking up to Seungcheol and taking one of Seungcheol’s hands in both of his. “I don’t care. I love you too much to let you die for some stranger.” 

Everyone else was silent, not siding with Jeonghan but not opposing him either, lots of them simply staring between Jeonghan and Seungcheol. Vernon was trying to think of a defense, trying to think of some way to possibly sway them, when Jihoon spoke up.

“I agree with Jeonghan.” 

All eyes turned to him, Seungkwan’s voice loud and surprised. 

“What?”

“What?” Jihoon asked back. “Really? You’d rather let Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Wonwoo die?”

“Well no, but--” 

“So we make sure they don’t die. We go to Wonwoo’s, and we smash the grey phone, and everyone stays safe.” 

Vernon glanced to Joshua, meeting his eyes. _They’re not going to let us go to Wonwoo’s, are they?_

Joshua gave a slight shake of his head. Though not many were voicing their opinion on the matter, Joshua could hear their thoughts anyway, and knew how they truly felt. 

“I won’t let you.” Junhui said, his voice thick and shaking with emotion. With his tall stature and clenched jaw, he truly looked like a force to be reckoned with. “I don’t care what any of you try to do to me. I’m saving him.” 

Jeonghan was staring Junhui down, Joshua shifting slightly to stand in front of him. 

“That isn’t going to work.” He told Jeonghan. “You can’t blind him. I know what you’re thinking, and Chan is always going to be one step ahead of you. We’re going to save our friend.” 

Vernon, so focused on the argument in front of him, didn’t notice the rustling going on at the far side of the room. It was Mingyu’s voice that caught his attention.

“Sure.” Mingyu said, Vernon glancing over to him, watching as he stepped to the side. From behind Mingyu’s back, a large tiger began walking forwards, its steps slow and deliberate, its sharp amber eyes staring Joshua down. Joshua began backing away quickly, using one hand to grab at Chan’s sleeve and drag him close, the other pushing Junhui backwards to put more distance between themselves and the beast. “You might have all of that. But you don’t have him.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOOD LORD THIS CHAPTER IS SO LONG I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE

_**15** _

His heart hammering in his throat, Vernon ran over to his friends. His mind seemed to be rejecting what he was seeing, unable to understand, not realizing what had happened until Mingyu stooped to pick up something behind him and Vernon recognized the small pile as the oversized clothes Soonyoung had changed into earlier, now discarded. _Just in case._

Soonyoung came to a stop in front of them, looking from Joshua to Vernon. His face was marked with spots of white, the orange and black stripes vibrant against each other. He was the largest and strongest creature Vernon had ever seen in his life, looking every bit a wild animal. Vernon wondered if trying to talk would change anything, if Soonyoung could understand him at all. 

“We’re going to go to Wonwoo’s house.” Mingyu said. “And you aren’t going to follow us.”

Soonyoung bared his teeth at them for a moment, his canines long and white and sharp. Vernon had never considered himself to be particularly afraid of tigers, but he’d also never seen one in real life like this, with very large paws and a very large head and the indisputable ability to run him down and rip him to pieces.

“We’re going to be okay.” Joshua murmured in his ear, but the four of them stood by and didn’t move as the others all left the fourth floor, Mingyu and Soonyoung standing at the entranceway until they were the last ones before also turning to go. They continued to stand there, huddled with each other, Vernon trying to breathe his heart rate back to something normal as the motorcycles on the floor below started up and drove off. 

“Did you know about that?” Chan asked, his voice loud in shock as he turned to Joshua.

“I mean, I… I knew there was something about tigers going on, but it seemed weird.” Joshua said. “I thought that maybe he just liked them! And it wasn’t like I was going to ask. _Oh my god.”_

“So… What are we going to do?” Vernon asked. 

“We’re going to find Wonwoo’s house.” Junhui responded.

“Junhui, they have a tiger.” Chan said emphatically. 

“And Jeonghan can blind people.” Joshua said. “Not permanently, I think, but… Just so everyone knows. That’s his ability.”

“He can?” Chan’s eyes were big. “Do you know anyone else’s abilities?” 

Joshua thought for a moment, his lips pursed. “I mean, we’ve all heard about what Wonwoo can do, but now that we’ve seen him… Super strength probably, right? I don’t know about Seokmin, and all I could read about Jihoon is that he’s in love with Mingyu.” 

“That’s not a superpower.” Chan said dismissively. 

“We need to go to Wonwoo’s house.” Junhui said again. “I think I could find it, if we could find our way back to the right neighborhood. We walked around enough that I think I could recognize it.”

“But they wouldn’t let us in.” Chan said. “They’d just send their tiger outside to eat us.”

“We should go.” Vernon said. “We need to get Minghao back; he’s counting on us.” 

Chan absorbed that statement for a moment, and despite his obvious fear, finally nodded. Joshua looked lost in thought, his voice slow as he spoke again. 

“I might be able to tell.” He said. “I might know when Minghao shows up; Minghao’s thoughts are really familiar to me. I would probably be able to hear him when he appears inside the house, if we can get close enough. And if not, then someone showing up out of nowhere is surprising, whether you’re expecting it or not. That would be loud. I could probably hear that. If we break in at the right moment, and if we’re fast enough, then maybe they won’t be able to stop us.” 

It did take a decent amount of riding around to find Wonwoo’s, but once they were there, it was obvious due to the amount of bikes parked in the front. Well, that and the giant tiger pacing back and forth across the threshold of the closed front door. They didn’t drive past the house, afraid of being noticed, turning their motorcycles off a block away and peeking around corners.

“How are you going to get in?” Chan asked, deciding to state the obvious. “You can’t go in the front door.” 

“Maybe there’s a back door?” Vernon asked, but Joshua shook his head. 

“They’d have someone stationed there too, if there was.” He said. “And it would probably be Mingyu.”

“Or Wonwoo.” Chan agreed. “We can’t fight Wonwoo.” 

“So there’s just no way to get in?” Junhui asked. “Can we sneak in? Break in somehow?” 

“I mean, they think they’re trying to save their friends’ lives.” Joshua said. “It makes sense that they’re so determined. We just have to… also be determined.” 

“What if I just… What if I just drove in?” Vernon asked, after a moment of thinking. All of his friends stared at him. 

_“You’re crazy.”_ Joshua told him. 

“Drove in?” Chan echoed. “As in…” He cranked both of his wrists back, and Vernon nodded. 

“Drove through one of the walls, yeah.” Vernon said. Chan’s mouth was open as he stared at Vernon. 

“Could you?” Junhui asked. “Would the bike make it?”

“I don’t know.” Vernon said. “But I mean… There’s only one way to find out. They can’t stop me if they don’t know I’m coming, right?” 

“You’re crazy.” Joshua said again, in Korean this time.

“Does anyone have a better idea?” Vernon asked. But nobody did, and it had been well over an hour since Vernon’s phone call with Minghao, so they were also out of time. They scoped out the place a little to try to decide what wall would be the safest to try to bust through, making as educated a guess as they could without getting too close. Vernon was nervous, not wanting to hit anyone, but it was that or get mauled by a tiger, so he figured he would take his chances. He lined up his bike, over a block away to get the speed he would need. 

“I’ll let you know if I hear him.” Joshua said. Joshua was going to get close to the house and try to use his ability to know when Minghao would show up. Or, if nothing else, would try to look in the windows. “I’ll text you, okay? Then I’ll get out of the way.” 

“Okay.” Vernon slung one leg up over his bike. Junhui and Chan were already as close as they felt they could get to Wonwoo’s house, hiding out of sight. They were the backup team, in case Vernon crashing his motorcycle against Wonwoo’s house failed miserably; they’d try to enter the house and answer the grey cell phone while Joshua called an ambulance or something. 

“I know it seems a little stupid to say this, but…” Joshua took a step closer, putting his hand over Vernon’s, where it was already resting on one of the motorcycle’s handles. “Be careful.” 

“I will.” Vernon said, unable not to grin, because using the word ‘careful’ about what he was about to do did seem a little stupid. The smile started to slip though, as Joshua’s expression changed a bit. “What?” 

“Oh nothing, just…” Joshua trailed off, glancing down and rubbing his thumb over the back of Vernon’s hand. Then he muttered something to himself and leaned close, Vernon barely having enough time to register just how close, when Joshua pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He pulled back, and Vernon couldn’t do much more than stare at him, stunned. “Make sure to wear your helmet, okay?” 

Without waiting for a response, Joshua was gone. Vernon stared at his retreating back, still able to feel where Joshua had kissed him, bringing his hand up to touch it. Joshua had kissed him. Joshua had just _kissed_ him. 

Joshua had kissed him before, on the cheeks a couple of times, and once on the forehead, but none of the times had felt like this. Joshua had kissed him for laughs, had kissed him because he knew that it would make Vernon groan or exclaim or shove at him, and both of them would break down into laughter. It had always been used as a threat, as a joke, as a “shut up or I’ll make you shut up”. This felt nothing like that. Partially because the kiss had been so deliberate, and so deliberately close to his mouth. 

Partially because Vernon wanted Joshua to kiss him again. 

They had been acting closer recently, Vernon realized as he thought. Ever since they’d heard Joshua’s name in the voicemail, things had changed, had shifted; not enough to be noticeable in the moment, but glaring when they were looked back on. Joshua had been touching him more, holding his hand, settling himself in closer. Vernon hadn’t really noticed it, because he’d never minded touching Joshua, or holding Joshua’s hand. He liked it, even. He’d just never framed it in a romantic context before, wondering now what it meant. If it meant that he liked Joshua. 

The word ‘like’ immediately felt wrong, but not because it was romantic. It didn’t feel nearly strong enough; he loved Joshua, and he’d loved Joshua for years. He loved Joshua, but he’d always assumed it was because Joshua was his best friend, that the comforting touches and long glances had been… Well, they definitely hadn’t been nothing, Vernon knew that they hadn’t been nothing, but they hadn’t meant to mean all that. All the other things that came with love. Maybe they had anyway. 

The only thing Vernon was really understanding while thinking through all of this was that he just wanted to kiss Joshua. And properly, this time. 

His phone buzzing in his pocket nearly had him losing his balance. Joshua had sent him a text. 

_There’s something going on inside. You should get in there._

_Is it Minghao?_ Vernon sent back, trying to get refocused. After a couple moments without a reply Vernon decided that he couldn’t wait, sliding his phone into his pocket and pulling his helmet on, starting up his motorcycle. As he started around the corner, fear began making its way up his throat, Vernon struggling to fight it and urging himself to go faster. He was aimed at one of the back walls of Wonwoo’s house, staring the wall down, the blank wall seeming to stare back, rushing at him faster and faster. His heart was in his throat, and his stomach felt like it was probably somewhere up there too, the two organs all twisted together in a mess of blood and stomach acid that put a sour taste in his mouth. 

This was going to hurt. 

_15_

It had been a while since Mingyu had seen someone learn that Soonyoung could transform. And with the transformation being planned, Soonyoung meeting his eyes and slipping behind him to undress, it had actually been kind of fun. Mingyu was so used to Soonyoung, used to how big he was and how sharp he looked; he would be able to recognize him anywhere, in any form. The others weren’t quite as comfortable. 

Despite knowing him well, anything scary or unexpected made Seungcheol and Seungkwan nervous, but they hid it well as they made their way down to the third floor to retrieve their bikes. The others were visibly anxious as they walked, Jeonghan sticking very close to Seungcheol, Wonwoo continuously looking back as though trying to keep an eye on Soonyoung. That was kind of funny too. 

To Soonyoung though, nothing was amiss; he was able to recognize them, able to recognize them all as friends that he knew, friends that he used to have but hadn’t been able to see in a while, and it made him very excited. As soon as they stopped walking he launched himself at Seokmin, getting up on his hind legs, shoving his forehead against Seokmin’s cheek with so much force that they both fell to the ground, and some of them began to laugh.

“Hey, Soonyoung.” Mingyu complained, holding out Soonyoung’s clothes. “Change back so we can leave.” 

Soonyoung, who was now walking circles around Jihoon, rubbing his side against Jihoon’s waist and letting out huffing, happy sounds, gave Mingyu a small grumble. 

“Yes, right now.” Mingyu told him. “I’ll drive the bike if you want, I don’t care, but I’m not going to let you dig your claws into my back the whole ride.” 

Giving him a look of utmost annoyance, Soonyoung left Jihoon alone and padded over. Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Seungkwan stood shoulder to shoulder, giving him a bit of a privacy wall; thanks to the nature of his ability, all of them had seen Soonyoung naked before, but they were out in public, and it was the middle of the day, and that was all a bit embarrassing. 

Mingyu did end up riding with Soonyoung to Wonwoo’s, and once they’d gotten there Soonyoung transformed again, sitting himself outside Wonwoo’s front door. None of them found it very likely that Vernon or his friends would try coming through the door if they saw Soonyoung standing there. Wonwoo offered them all food and drinks, and once snacks had been passed around, they all stood around in the living room, glancing at each other, Mingyu realizing that he hadn’t been in a room with these people like this in a couple of years. Despite the passage of time, it felt natural. Because of the passage of time, it felt completely unnatural, too.

“Hey, come here.” Seungcheol said, beckoning Jihoon close. Jihoon walked over, confusion on his face, not quite able to dodge out of the way when Seungcheol reached over and touched him. The bruise disappeared from Jihoon’s face, blossoming over Seungcheol’s cheek instead. “There.”

“You didn’t need--”

“I felt bad, okay?” Seungcheol said, trying to dismiss him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Jihoon shrugged a little, reaching up to poke at the now unblemished skin on his left cheek. “Besides, I probably would have done worse. I know that Mingyu is left-handed.”

Mingyu felt his face heat up a bit, forcing himself to glance away; he’d been hoping that Jihoon didn’t notice that he’d actually swung out with his non-dominant hand, unable to make himself swing too hard, hoping that the lack of coordination would give Jihoon time to duck out of the way. He’d been surprised when Jihoon hadn’t.

“Now what do we do?” Seungkwan asked. He looked a bit anxious.

“Wait, I guess.” Jeonghan responded with a shrug, sitting on Wonwoo’s couch, the action a bit of a collapse. Seungcheol sat next to him, putting his arm not-so-discreetly up on the back of the couch so it was over Jeonghan’s shoulders. “They said an hour and a half, right? Until he shows up? So we have some time.” 

Mingyu was about to open his mouth--he couldn’t stand this couple-act Seungcheol and Jeonghan had going on without clearing the air--when Jihoon stepped up to him.

“I need to talk to you.” He said, his voice soft but insistent. Mingyu blinked at him, and when he didn’t say or do anything Jihoon reached out, grabbing his wrist, his grip tight as he gave Mingyu’s arm a tug. It wasn’t a sharp tug, but it was pointed. It also was completely unnecessary; Mingyu would have followed him anywhere. 

Jihoon led him into the back room that they’d been in earlier, with the table and the time-phone, the chair still in the middle of the floor. Jihoon closed the door behind them, the silence thick, and he turned to face Mingyu, stepping close. Mingyu wanted to say something, but he didn’t want to stop whatever it was that Jihoon was trying to do, so he kept his mouth closed. 

“I wanted to apologize.” Jihoon said. He wasn’t looking up at Mingyu; his eyes were on their hands, on his fingers around Mingyu’s wrist. He wasn’t letting go. “For what happened earlier, I mean. We should have believed you when you said that you didn’t know. Seokmin shouldn’t have hypnotized you. Wonwoo and I shouldn’t have let him do it. I… I’m sorry. You don’t need to worry about the things you said when you weren’t in your right mind.”

 _Weren’t in your right mind._ The apology was surprisingly thoughtful, but the problem was that Mingyu had meant every word. 

“Did it make you uncomfortable?” Mingyu asked. “Is that why you’re doing this?” 

“No, that’s not…” Jihoon glanced up. “That’s not it, I just--”

“Because hypnosis and mind control aren’t the same thing.” Mingyu said. “Hypnosis brings out things that people would say or do, just only under a specific time, or like… circumstance.” 

“There’s no circumstance where you would say or do any of that.” Jihoon countered, beginning to draw away, his grip loosening on Mingyu’s wrist. He had a familiar look in his eye, a mistrust that always seemed to be there when Mingyu would try to be genuine. It was a look that had been there even before they’d broken apart, a look that Mingyu hated but had never asked about because he was too afraid of the answer. 

“Why did you never apologize?” Mingyu found himself asking. Jihoon completely released him then, taking a full step back. Mingyu could still feel where Jihoon had touched him, the skin hypersensitive. 

“I just fucking did, you asshole.”

“No, for back then.” Mingyu took a step towards Jihoon, wanting the closeness back, and Jihoon didn’t step away. “For the prank you pulled on me. You never said you were sorry.”

“Well, neither did you.” Jihoon narrowed his eyes. “Why should I apologize? It was just a joke. You were the one that was going to kill me afterwards.” 

“I wasn’t going to kill you.”

“You didn’t see the look on your face.” 

“I… I was angry.” Mingyu admitted. He didn’t think though, despite all the rage and hurt he’d felt, that he would have actually injured Jihoon. He’d done a lot of swearing and swinging around, he knew, but he also couldn’t see, and half of the flailing had been him trying not to lose his balance. “But it isn’t a joke to me. People messing with my head, I mean.” 

“It’s not like I did any permanent damage.” Jihoon wasn’t looking at him again, his arms crossed over his chest and his head turned to the side, and it was obvious that he didn’t fully believe his own words. 

“Well, it’s just… You know the ability my dad has?” It wasn’t really a question--both of them knew that Jihoon was aware of what it was--but Jihoon nodded anyway. Persuasion. Forcing someone to do something, even if it was the last thing they wanted to do in the entire world. “He used to use it a lot on me when I was younger, whenever I was acting out, or doing something that he thought was wrong. I couldn’t ever resist it or make him stop, because he’s really strong with it, but I got really good at being able to tell when it was happening. I always know when something going on in my mind is against my will. Always.” 

Jihoon’s face was slowly twisting into something a little bit awful, but Mingyu continued. 

“The whole time I was under, the whole time I was at school, acting like an idiot with everyone laughing at me… I knew it was your fault. The prank itself was fine, it was stupid, I’m over that now, but with my dad doing it at home and you doing it at school--”

“Mingyu, I--”

“--You were supposed to be my friend.” 

“...your friend?” Jihoon finally asked, after a long beat of silence. Friend wasn’t the right word, but Mingyu didn’t really have a word for Jihoon, trying to think and failing, the words painfully raw as they tumbled out of him. 

“You were everything.” 

That hung between them, heavy. Jihoon was looking at him now, fully staring at him, his eyes going over Mingyu’s face with his brows furrowed, looking more and more frustrated until he finally burst. 

“How could you say that?!” 

“What?” 

“That--that’s what you were so mad about? That’s what you threw everything away for? Mingyu, I--” He cut himself off, breathless. His eyes were wide with emotion, Mingyu watching him stop and start again, a little calmer. “I was so--you’re such a goddamn hypocrite.” 

Mingyu didn’t know what to say to that, unable to understand how the conversation had ended up here or why Jihoon was so angry, feeling his heart in his throat. 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry for what must have happened, whatever happened that week you were suspended from school, but you cannot get mad about me getting into your thoughts once, _once,_ when you’ve been messing with my head for years.” 

“Messing with your head?” Mingyu echoed. He was at a loss, completely blindsided by the accusation. “I… Jihoon, I’ve never messed with your head.” 

Jihoon stared at him as he took in the defense before shaking his head rapidly, stepping closer and looking truly upset.

“At… At first I didn’t really mind, because--because you were wasting your time anyway, honestly, but then--then you kept doing it, even after you decided to hate me, and I… I wanted to hate you back. I _tried_ to hate you back, but you couldn’t even let me do that.” 

“Jihoon, what--”

“How can you hate your father’s ability when you have it too?” Jihoon asked him, and Mingyu took a full step back at those words. “If you really were going to hate me after what I did, then why did you keep talking me into being in love with you?” 

Jihoon’s face was a bit flushed, angry as he looked up at Mingyu, who had no idea what to say. He’d heard the words, but they didn’t feel real. They also didn’t make a lot of sense, feeling so delusory that they seemed impossible in his mouth as he spoke.

“...you’re in love with me?” He finally asked, and Jihoon glanced away again. 

“Why are you acting surprised?” Jihoon asked back. His face was pink from both embarrassment and indignation. “Even now, every time I see your stupid face, the way you look at me when you talk--”

Mingyu felt he was finally wrapping his head around what Jihoon was saying, though he couldn’t get past his disbelief. 

“You think that--that what, I’ve been trying to talk you into falling in love with me? Jihoon, I can’t do that.” 

Jihoon stared at him. Just stepped back, and stared at him for a long moment. Then, finally, 

“...what?” 

“I know that persuasion is an ability that a lot of people think that I have, since it runs in my family, but I can’t do anything like that.” Jihoon had gone slack, his anger fading, and he was just staring at Mingyu. Part of Mingyu wanted to laugh, but this was so real, so important, something he desperately needed Jihoon to understand, so he took a step forward, reaching for Jihoon’s hand, and Jihoon let him take it. 

“Then what…?” 

“I have my mom’s ability.” Mingyu said. “I can talk to animals. That’s why I’ve known Soonyoung since I was like, five years old; my dad would send me to his house to help his parents sometimes.” When Jihoon didn’t respond, Mingyu continued. “I don’t usually talk about it--my dad doesn’t like it when I talk about it--but did I really never tell you? What do you guys think I’m doing when I talk to Soonyoung in his tiger form?” 

Still, Jihoon didn’t say anything, and after a closer look, Mingyu realized that Jihoon was close to tears. His breath caught in his chest at the expression, swallowing.

“Jihoon? Are you okay?” 

“I…” Mingyu addressing him seemed to pull Jihoon from some sort of thought, and he pulled away quickly, taking a couple of steps back. “I never thought that I actually--I thought that it was just you, you trying to make me like you back. I didn’t really mind in school because I liked you, I wanted to like you, but then when you stopped talking to me, and were angry at me, all of those feelings never went away. I thought it was still your fault. I thought you were still making me feel in love with you, and I… I thought you were trying to torture me. And it was working.” 

And then Jihoon was crying, just barely, a couple of tears falling fast down his cheeks. Unable to help himself, his heart lurching, Mingyu reached forwards with his thumb and wiped the wetness away. He wanted nothing more than to hug Jihoon, but the moment felt too fragile. 

“I wanted to hate you.” Jihoon said. “I was so mad at you. I just wanted to be able to hate you back.” 

“But you didn’t?” Mingyu asked quickly, surprised. He probably would have hated Jihoon if things had been reversed, if he’d thought Jihoon was playing with him like that, doing something that malicious on purpose. Jihoon shook his head. 

“I don’t. I never did.” 

“Jihoon--” Mingyu tried reaching for Jihoon’s hand, trying to pull him in to hold him, but Jihoon backed away even further, wiping at his face and tilting his head to the ceiling. 

“I just found out that I’m actually in love with you.” He said, his voice a little watery despite his dry tone. The words made Mingyu feel unable to breathe, for just a moment. “I don’t need you turning me down in the same fifteen minutes.” 

“You really need to stop assuming things about me.” Mingyu said, Jihoon glancing at him quickly. 

“What?” 

“Was ‘I miss you, I want you to touch me’ not enough of a bad pickup line, or do I need to download a gross dating app and text it to you at three in the morning?” Though he still looked a little fragile, Jihoon laughed, Mingyu properly stepping up and holding both of Jihoon’s hands. “I… I was angry, but the way I felt about you never went away either. So you’d better get ready for me to carry you everywhere and follow you around like a puppy again.” 

Jihoon shook his head, leaning forward to press his face into Mingyu’s chest. 

“I can’t believe this.” He muttered, his voice muffled, and Mingyu laughed a little.

“Is this why you never seemed to trust me when I complimented you?” He asked, things making a little more sense now. Jihoon got defensive immediately, his lips coming together in a pouting sort of frown. 

“You always had--you always had this dumb smile on your face--”

“I was smiling because I liked you!” Mingyu exclaimed at him. “I wasn’t like… Putting on an act, or trying to project. It’s embarrassing how much I like you, Jihoon.”

“You don’t get to say anything about ‘embarrassing’.” Jihoon told him, his voice a grumble, and Mingyu fully laughed at that, giving Jihoon a squeezing hug. 

“I’m going to tease you about this for the rest of our lives.” He warned, Jihoon reaching up to lightly hit his shoulder. 

The rest of their lives. If there really was no way to change what was going to happen, then that wasn’t very much more time. Jihoon seemed to realize the same thing in the same moment, entwining his fingers with Mingyu’s and leaning into him, glancing up at his face. 

“Jihoon, I…” It felt a bit desperate to say out loud, but Mingyu didn’t care anymore. “I really want to kiss you.” 

“So kiss me.” Jihoon murmured, Mingyu leaning down to find Jihoon already reaching up for him, already on the balls of his feet. Jihoon’s eyes were on his for a moment before looking down to his lips, and Mingyu kissed him. 

The touch of Jihoon’s lips to his took Mingyu’s breath away. He gasped, just a bit, and one of Jihoon’s hands left his, reaching up to touch his cheek instead, as though to steady him. The gesture made his heart ache, wrapping an arm around Jihoon and pulling him close. Jihoon let go of his other hand too, sliding his hand up Mingyu’s chest as he kissed him, resting his palm by Mingyu’s jaw and putting his fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. 

It was overwhelming, being this close to Jihoon, feeling Jihoon’s hands on him, the slide and pressure of Jihoon’s lips against his own. Mingyu couldn’t breathe, drawing back a little, tilting his head a bit so that his forehead rested against Jihoon’s instead. 

“Okay?” Jihoon asked softly, his hands still holding Mingyu’s face, the one on his neck going up slightly into his hair to lightly thread his fingers through it. 

“I just missed you so much.” Mingyu told him, and a small smile curled its way onto Jihoon’s lips, everything about him perfect. 

“I missed you too.” He said, and Mingyu kissed him again. 

Jihoon’s entire body was arching to press against Mingyu, pulling him down and pulling him closer, his fingers curling, his mouth falling open easily. Mingyu kissed Jihoon back with everything he had, holding him tightly, and when a small sound came from Jihoon’s mouth, something between a moan and a sigh, Mingyu was struck with how incredibly, devastatingly in love he was. 

The sharp ring of a telephone cut the air. 

“If that’s your cell phone, tell me who’s calling you so I can kill them.” Jihoon murmured against Mingyu’s lips. Mingyu had to pull back to laugh but Jihoon didn’t let him go far, leaning against his chest a little. 

“That isn’t my phone.” Mingyu said, just as the ring happened again. And he was actually paying attention this time, able to tell where the sound was coming from, turning quickly. The old black phone on the table was ringing. 

Jihoon swore, Mingyu biting his lips in an effort not to do the same. 

“I’ll answer it.” Mingyu said, because Jihoon had gone very, very still next to him.

“Do you have to?”

“It won’t stop ringing if I don’t. I’ll just answer it, and we’ll see what the voicemail has to say.”

Jihoon let go of him, and Mingyu approached the table. He chanced a quick glance back at Jihoon, who had one arm across his chest, standing there with his right hand on his left bicep and looking anxious. Mingyu gripped the neck of the phone, about to lift the bell from its holder when a loud crash came from the next room, the entire building rattling. A rumbling growl followed before cutting off, Mingyu turning quickly to Jihoon. He looked scared and confused, the silence lasting just a moment before the phone let out another shrill ring. 

“What--” Mingyu didn’t even have a guess as to what that was. “What the hell just happened out there?” 

“I…” Jihoon glanced back at the closed door. “I’ll go see.” 

Mingyu nodded. The phone was important too; he needed to answer it. So, after watching Jihoon leave the room, he did. 

“Hello?” Came a voice, as soon as Mingyu held the bell up to his ear. He pulled back from the phone and stared at it, just to make sure. This was a time-phone. No one was supposed to answer. No one was supposed to be on the other line. He leaned in towards the bakelite. 

“...hello?” He asked back, at a loss for what else to do. The response was quick and panicked, Mingyu recognizing the speaker immediately as Seungkwan. Seungkwan, however, wasn’t talking to him. 

“There’s someone there!” He was yelling. “Someone is on the phone, they said hello back to me, they--”

He stopped abruptly, Mingyu pulling the bell of the phone completely away from his ear to stare at it. Seungkwan was supposed to be in the other room with everyone else; what the hell were they doing in there? He turned, to call out, or to step out there himself--Jihoon still hadn’t returned--when a panicked shout nearly sent him jumping out of his skin. 

“Seungcheol?!” It was Jeonghan, sounding so scared that it made Mingyu sick, and he started for the door. “Wonwoo? Seokmin?”

“Jeonghan!” Mingyu ran across the threshold, met with the sight of Jeonghan sitting on the floor with the red rotary phone from the parking garage in his lap, and Vernon, sitting--somehow, _somehow_ \--on his motorcycle, the grey phone in his hand. The rest of the room was empty. “Where did everyone go?”

“I don’t know.” Jeonghan’s eyes were wide, Mingyu realizing that he’d never seen Jeonghan in such a state of hopelessness and confusion, the instability of it making something in his stomach twist. “I don’t know.”

  
  


_**15** _

Jeonghan wasn’t sure if it was actual quick thinking, or a complete lack of thinking at all that caused Seungkwan to take the red phone with him as they left the parking garage. He found himself grateful that they had it though, placing it on Wonwoo’s coffee table, glad that he could keep an eye on it. The sight of it made him uneasy, but he’d rather have it in his sights than not at all. 

“You alright?” Seungcheol asked, his voice soft. They were sitting together on Wonwoo’s couch, Seungcheol’s arm almost around him, and Jeonghan didn’t know what to say. In truth, he felt shaken and awful and exhausted, but it didn’t feel like a good time or place to admit any of that. Thankfully, Seungcheol asked a second question, and that one was easier to answer. “Do your fingers hurt?” 

“No, they’re fine.” Jeonghan glanced at the splint on his hand. Despite completely caving and going to Seungcheol’s apartment the night before, his fingers were still broken. Seungcheol had promised he wouldn’t use his ability, and Jeonghan had made a very, very big deal about wanting to trust him. It had felt dramatic at the time, Jeonghan both grateful that it had worked and slightly upset that he’d had to do it at all. Seeing Jihoon’s bruise on Seungcheol’s face did make the victory feel short-lived, though. 

“What’s wrong?” 

That question came from Wonwoo, and it was directed at Seokmin. Both Seokmin and Seungkwan were staring at the closed door that led to a side room in Wonwoo’s house; Jihoon had just grabbed Mingyu by the hand and pulled him inside, closing the door behind them. 

“Are… Are they going to be okay in there?” Seokmin asked. He looked extremely concerned. 

“Sure they are.” Jeonghan said easily, shrugging a little. “And if they’re not, then Jihoon will throttle Mingyu to death and everyone’s lives will be a little easier.” 

“Don’t say that!” Seungkwan whined at him, obviously stressed. “Seriously! What if they get into a fight?” 

“They’re not going to get into a fight.” Wonwoo said. Seconds later, Jihoon’s voice was heard through the closed door, loud and high with emotion. 

“How could you say that?!”

It took everything Jeonghan had not to laugh, reaching out a hand when Wonwoo turned to walk towards the door, having to place his other hand on Seungcheol’s leg to keep him from standing up. 

“Jihoon wanted to talk to him.” He said. “Let them talk it out.” 

After a moment, they all nodded in agreement. 

“I’m glad we’re all in the same timeline again.” Seungkwan said. “That… That freeze was weird.” 

“So you weren’t frozen?” Seungcheol asked. “What happened?” 

Seungkwan recounted it to them, Jeonghan listening closely. 

“And I mean, Vernon was as freaked out as I was.” Seungkwan said, his eyes big as he talked, though Jeonghan had a hard time imagining someone who seemed as level-headed as Vernon acting anywhere near as freaked out as Seungkwan could act. “And when he talked to his friend on the phone… He was trying to be comforting. All he wanted to do was help.” 

A dark silence followed those words, Jeonghan glancing at the red phone again. It was his fault, he knew, that they’d come to the conclusive decision to let the grey phone go unanswered. He was the one that had proposed the idea, the one that had pushed for it, despite knowing it didn’t quite sit well with some of his friends. But he couldn’t just stand there and let time play out, couldn’t let what they’d heard come to pass. Not if there was something he could do about it. 

“I… I’m not sure about this.” Seungcheol spoke up. “I don’t know if we should do this, just let it happen and not do something.” 

“We’re not letting it happen.” Jeonghan said. Though he’d hoped he wouldn’t, he’d had the thought that Seungcheol might say something. “That’s the whole point.” 

“Yeah, but--”

“Seungcheol, you… You’ve heard the voicemail, right?” Jeonghan had to ask, though he knew the answer. “You’ve heard yourself and Mingyu getting hurt in that recording?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you heard Jihoon crying? You heard me crying?” 

This time, Seungcheol didn’t speak, simply nodding. 

“How can you be okay with any of that happening?” 

“I’m not…” Seungcheol glanced down. “I’m not okay with it happening, I just--it doesn’t feel right.” 

Jeonghan reached over, taking Seungcheol’s free hand in both of his. 

“You’re good, Seungcheol. You’re so good, and so selfless, but I’m not. I can’t be, because I can’t live without you. I’ll say it as many times as I have to; I love you too much to let you get hurt.” 

Seungcheol looked up at him, hurt and distress on his face at the words, and before Jeonghan had time to truly realize what was happening, Seungcheol was leaning in and kissing him. He kissed Seungcheol back, squeezing his hand tightly, broken apart by a loud exclamation from Seungkwan. 

“Oh, come on--how many weird things are going to happen today?” 

Hearing Seungkwan’s voice seemed to bring Seungcheol back to reality, back to realizing where they were and who they were with, and he turned red, completely pressing his face into Jeonghan’s neck. 

“What’s weird?” Jeonghan raised his eyebrows. “What’s weird about me kissing my boyfriend?” 

“I wondered if something was going on.” Wonwoo said, which genuinely surprised Jeonghan. 

“You did?” 

“Okay, for maybe the past hour.” Wonwoo admitted. “I know that we’re friends, and we all love each other, but none of this has been very subtle.” 

Seokmin was just staring, Jeonghan glancing to his boyfriend. Due to the way he was hiding, all that the group could see--aside from his dark mess of hair--was one of his ears, and it was bright red. 

“Hey.” Jeonghan shrugged his shoulder, jostling Seungcheol. “Take some responsibility.” 

Thankfully, that got Seungcheol to lift his head. “I’m dating Jeonghan.” He said. “We’ve been dating for a while.” 

“A while.” Seungkwan echoed. Then he seemed to realize what was being said to him. “A while?!” 

So the two of them explained; they explained how long they’d been hiding and why, trying to end with an apology that was waved off.

“I know why you couldn’t tell Mingyu.” Seokmin said. “But if you could tell Jihoon, why couldn’t you tell us?” 

“Because Jihoon can keep a secret.” Jeonghan answered. Seungcheol glanced over at him, a frown on his face.

“You never told me that Jihoon knew.”

He looked mildly upset, Jeonghan hastening to explain. 

“If I said I told Jihoon, you might tell someone too, and Seungkwan and Soonyoung can’t keep a secret either.” 

“I can keep a secret!” Seungkwan exclaimed. “I never told anyone that Jihoon wrote a romantic song about Jeonghan in high school!” 

“He did?” Wonwoo asked in surprise, while Jeonghan put his hand over his mouth. 

“Hey, Seungkwan?” He asked, once he’d managed not to laugh out loud, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. “You just told me.” 

“Oh.” Seungkwan said. He sighed a bit, throwing his thumb over his shoulder towards the door. “Soonyoung already knew, anyways.” 

“Does Soonyoung know why he’s out there?” Seokmin asked. “Is he going to be okay?”

“As long as Junhui doesn’t have a tranquilizer gun, I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Jeonghan responded. 

“Plus, Mingyu told him what was going on.” Seungkwan added. “He should know, at least a bit.” 

“And he’s…” Seokmin’s voice was hesitant. “He’s alright with what we’re doing?” 

“You’re not?” Jeonghan guessed, Seokmin seeming incredibly reluctant to speak.

“I just feel like we should help.” Seokmin muttered.

“We should.” Seungkwan agreed. Then his expression went a bit pained. “Except we shouldn’t, because no one should die. Ah, this is so awful.” 

“We don’t know Minghao.” Jeonghan countered. “It’s not worth it.” 

“He’s another human being, Jeonghan.” Seungcheol said.

“But he’s not dying.” Jeonghan said. In truth, the idea of it made Jeonghan painfully uneasy too, but he still found that the negatives of helping Minghao were horrifyingly worse than the positives, and with everyone else changing their minds about their decision, he had to double down. “Time travel is his ability. It’s what he can do. I’m sure he can figure it out without us.” 

That seemed to appease Seungkwan a bit, nodding along to the words, though his lips and eyebrows were still all bunched up in thought. 

“But what if he doesn’t?” He finally asked. “What if this is like… His only chance?”

“Seungkwan, you don’t know anything about time travel.” Jeonghan tried to tell him.

“What do you know about time travel then, Jeonghan?” Wonwoo asked back. Jeonghan didn’t want to admit that he knew absolutely nothing, but he didn’t end up speaking at all; Minghao appeared in the middle of the room, knocking into the coffee table and spilling the drinks over the tabletop. 

His appearance was startling, both Seungkwan and Seokmin letting out shouts of surprise, Jeonghan and Seungcheol getting to their feet from their seats on the couch. 

Minghao steadied himself the best he could, swaying slightly; he didn’t look right, his body almost washed of color, blurry and wavering. He glanced around at them all, his gaze wary, the grey phone gripped in his hand. 

“Hey…” Seungcheol trailed off before he’d even really started speaking, Minghao stooping, placing the phone on the rug. Before he’d even straightened up, he was gone. As soon as he disappeared, both the grey phone and the red phone began to ring at the same time. 

Jeonghan had expected the grey phone to ring. He’d thought that would happen, that answering it was the thing that would hurt them, that he had to keep it from being picked up. He hadn’t expected both of the phones, and now felt lost at what to do. They all looked around at each other. 

“Are we really…” Seokmin met Jeonghan’s eyes, concern and fear and disbelief in them, and Jeonghan couldn’t look back, glancing away. “Are we really not going to do anything?” 

“We can’t.” Jeonghan said.

“We could.” Wonwoo pointed out. 

“We shouldn’t.”

“What if I just answer the red one?” Seungcheol offered. “It probably doesn’t mean the same thing.”

“But what if it does?” Seungkwan asked back, his voice high in worry. “Time froze last time I answered it.” 

Before Jeonghan even had time to consider that statement, he heard something. It was the growling noise of a motorcycle had started up, maybe from somewhere across the street. It was faint enough to ignore at first, but it wasn’t fading, like it should if the rider was driving off; it was getting closer, and louder, then too loud to not be right next to the house. Fear spiked in Jeonghan’s chest, and he grabbed desperately at Seungcheol’s arm, yanking him backwards. They ran across the room and straight into Seokmin, fully knocking him down, the three of them falling together in a tangle on the floor. 

“Seungkwan--!” Jeonghan started, but Wonwoo seemed to understand, holding onto Seungkwan, ducking down and turning them both away as the far wall blasted apart. 

Jeonghan clutched at Seungcheol, squeezing his eyes closed as parts of plaster flung across the room. The roar of the motorcycle was painfully loud for a moment before cutting off, the silence prompting Jeonghan to lift his head. 

It was Vernon, himself and his bike somehow still upright, taking off his helmet. He was stooping towards the grey phone, Jeonghan breathing a curse through clenched teeth and running at him. No, _no._

His desperation and his shaky legs combined to make him clumsy, and he stumbled straight into the coffee table, fully knocking it over. The ringing red phone fell with it, and Jeonghan grabbed at it, catching it in his lap. It wasn’t enough, though; Vernon had the grey cell phone in his hand, and as Jeonghan watched the receiver fell from the red phone, the coiled wire stretching out as the handset landed on the rug.

Jeonghan’s knees hit the floor hard and he winced, his arms going slack as the phone fell into his lap. The pain was forgotten a second later, glancing up as a sort of gasp went through the room. The air, thick with dust and drywall just a second before, was clear and unaffected. Next to Jeonghan, the coffee table was righted again, clear of spilled cups and snack wrappers. Aside from Vernon--still sitting on his motorcycle and holding the grey phone to his ear--the living room was empty.

They were gone. Every single other person that had been in the room--Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, Seokmin--they were all gone. Panic shot up Jeonghan’s throat so fast it nearly knocked the air from him. 

“Seungcheol?!” He yelled, as if shouting the name loud enough would do anything, would somehow summon Seungcheol back to him. “Seokmin? Wonwoo?” 

The door behind him burst open, Mingyu rushing out, the black candlestick phone in his hand and something frantic on his face. 

“Jeonghan!” Mingyu looked over him, taking a quick glance around the room. His eyes rested on Vernon for just a moment before going back to him. “Where did everyone go?”

“I don’t know.” Jeonghan answered, realizing who else was gone, who else had to be part of Mingyu’s “everyone” question; if Jihoon had still been in that room, he would have come running out with Mingyu. “I don’t know.” 

“Is anyone hurt?” Vernon asked, and Jeonghan properly looked at him. 

“Why would--how did you get in here?” Mingyu asked. He turned away, walking to Wonwoo’s front door and looking around outside for a moment. “What the hell did you do to Soonyoung?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Vernon said quickly. “Is he gone too?” 

“Yeah.” Mingyu had a set to his mouth--the confusion, Jeonghan saw, was starting to frustrate him. 

“Vernon drove his bike through the wall.” Jeonghan reported, pointing to the small section of the wall that had been absolutely destroyed only seconds before. It had been a lucky shot really, right in the pocket of space between the end of Wonwoo’s couch and the open space where his kitchen began. The hole was gone now, though, the wall completely patched up, looking as though nothing had happened to it. “Minghao showed up with the phone, then Vernon drove through the wall, then everyone disappeared.”

“You drove through the wall?” Mingyu asked, his voice loud in disbelief.

“You guys were guarding the door.” Vernon said, like that explained everything, like that gave them the solid reasoning they would need to think that crashing his bike into Wonwoo’s house wasn’t an absolutely wild idea. Mingyu was looking around. 

“Which wall did you drive through?”

“It… Went back to normal.” Vernon said. “When we answered the phones, and everyone disappeared… The wall fixed itself.” With a frown on his face, he pointed to Mingyu, and to the phone in Mingyu’s hand. “Did that phone ring too? Both of these did.” 

Mingyu nodded. “I was in that side room with Jihoon. I answered it, just to shut it up, but Seungkwan was there. We could hear each other, and as soon as I said hello, he started yelling.” 

“Seungkwan?” Jeonghan asked in surprise. Everyone was supposed to have disappeared after the phones were answered, Seungkwan included. “Is he okay? What did he say?” 

“He wasn’t talking to me.” Mingyu answered. “He just was surprised that someone responded to him. That someone said hello back to him. Then he stopped talking, and then… Well, you started yelling, so I wasn’t really listening after that.” 

“Oh.” Vernon’s voice was quiet, looking down at the grey phone, his face screwed up in thought. 

“What?” Jeonghan asked, wanting _someone_ to at least have an idea of what was going on. Why the wall had gone back to normal. Why he, Mingyu, and Vernon were somehow the only people in Wonwoo’s house. Why Mingyu had been able to talk to Seungkwan through a phone that hadn’t worked in a hundred years, and certainly didn’t work now.

“It was you.” Vernon said, pointing to Mingyu. “You were who Seungkwan heard, when time stopped after the red phone was answered. Something must have happened during the whole time… thing. The disruption or whatever, in the parking garage. Remember?”

“Time didn’t freeze for us.” Jeonghan pointed out. “There’s nothing for us to remember.” 

Vernon didn’t seem to really be listening, continuing to speak to Mingyu. “If you just talked to Seungkwan, then he just answered the red phone. That was almost two hours ago. That was inside the parking garage.” 

“You’re saying that what, right now is two hours ago?” Mingyu asked. 

“Maybe?” Vernon answered. He looked a bit frustrated, judging by the way his eyebrows were drawn together, but Jeonghan was willing to take the explanation. It made the wall make at least a little bit of sense, and it was better to think that Seungcheol and the rest of their friends were in the parking garage instead of just gone to thin air. “I think it’s Minghao, using the phones to try to talk to us. Trying to get back here.”

“So, what do we do?” Mingyu asked. “Do we go to the parking garage? Do we wait for them to come back here?” 

“We should go.” Vernon said after a moment of thought. “There’s something--there’s supposed to be something that happens today. Something that happens there, and… It hasn’t happened yet.” 

He didn’t elaborate further, but Jeonghan was afraid to ask. It was difficult to maneuver Vernon’s motorcycle out Wonwoo’s front door, another problem presenting itself quickly. Everyone was at the parking garage right now; Wonwoo’s driveway was completely empty, Jeonghan figuring that his bike was probably parked up there with everyone else’s. 

“I’m not putting three people on this thing.” Vernon said, gesturing to his motorcycle. 

“Should I call a car?” Mingyu offered, Vernon blinking at him for a moment. Despite having lived with Soonyoung for the past two days, it seemed Vernon wasn’t used to how rich Mingyu and his friends were. 

“I mean, how long would that take?” He asked back, just as Jeonghan thought of something.

“Mingyu, two nights ago; you rode your bike to Seungcheol’s apartment, right? And you left it there.”

“Yeah.” Mingyu said. “So it’s there.” 

“Well, my apartment is two blocks away, and Seungcheol’s place is only a ten minute walk after that.” Jeonghan said. “You can go get it, and we’ll ride together.” 

“You two… You two live that close?” Mingyu gave him a look. “How did I never realize that? How did I never…?”

“Because you’re an idiot.” Jeonghan said, unable not to grin, and something in Jeonghan’s chest hurt a bit when Mingyu smiled back. It wasn’t until Mingyu was gone, riding off to Seungcheol’s with an arm around Vernon’s waist, that he realized that the feeling was something akin to nostalgia. He’d missed Mingyu, and Mingyu’s friendship, much more than he’d realized. Mingyu hadn’t genuinely smiled at him in a long time. 

Mingyu and Vernon came back within ten minutes, each on their respective bikes. Mingyu gestured for Jeonghan to get on, and didn’t want to hear any objections when he insisted that Jeonghan wear his helmet instead of him. 

“We had better be able to just--I don’t know, put time back together or something.” Mingyu said as Jeonghan climbed onto the back of his bike. “The past two hours of my life need to have happened.” 

“Oh?” Jeonghan asked, an eyebrow raised. “Did something happen in there with Jihoon? Did you guys finally make out?” 

Mingyu didn’t answer, and Jeonghan’s mouth fell open. 

“You did?!” He hit Mingyu’s shoulder. “You two confessed your feelings? How much did you cry?” 

“I didn’t cry.” Mingyu said, though he didn’t sound very convincing; either he’d cried, or he’d come very close. “Jihoon did though, a little bit.” 

“Yeah, well, he’s loved you for a long time.” Jeonghan said, and Mingyu started his bike up. 

“I love him too.” Mingyu responded, though Jeonghan wasn’t sure he’d meant for Jeonghan to know, because he’d spoken too softly to be heard over the motorcycle’s engine; with him glancing back at Vernon, Jeonghan had been able to watch Mingyu’s lips move. Vernon gestured for them to start, and the three of them were off. 

It was a shorter ride to the parking garage than Jeonghan remembered, and when they were at the foot of the building, about to ride in, Vernon rolled to a stop.

“What?” Mingyu called out to him. 

“You guys just need to know.” Vernon answered. “I can--I get visions, I guess is a way of putting it--and I’ve seen this building before, and…” He seemed to struggle for a moment. “It collapses.”

“Collapses?” Jeonghan echoed, the word unexpected and frightening in his mouth. 

“Yeah.” 

“And…” Mingyu pointed up at the building. Inside was everyone that Jeonghan loved, simply standing around, completely unaware. Fear echoed through Jeonghan’s chest like a silent scream. “Everyone is supposed to be in there right now, right?” 

“...yeah.” 

Jeonghan, his arms around Mingyu, felt him let out a long, heavy breath. 

“Let’s go in, then.” 

_**14** _

Once they’d hit the third floor, all of the motorcycles they’d rode to the parking garage on came into view. It was only their bikes, no people, but if Vernon was right and everyone was there, they would have gone to the fourth floor already, so they continued riding up without stopping. Sure enough, everyone was crowded around the large wire spool, the red phone on top of it. Seungkwan’s eyes were on them, wide as dinner plates and shining with unshed tears.

“You disappeared!” He exclaimed, pointing at Vernon. “I didn’t know what to do! And everyone--everyone is frozen!” 

He was still holding the receiver of the red phone in his hand, absolutely panicked. Vernon stopped his bike and jumped off, Mingyu doing the same as Jeonghan pulled Mingyu’s helmet off and dropped it to the floor. 

“Hang the phone up.” Vernon told Seungkwan, already starting across the room. Jeonghan rushed to Seungcheol’s side, slipping his hand into Seungcheol’s frozen one, hating how still he looked, his eyes stuck closed in a blink. Seeing him, more than anything, cemented Jeonghan’s surety that they’d fully gone back in time; the bruise Seungcheol had taken off of Jihoon’s face was no longer there. Wasn’t there _yet._

“Where did you guys come from?” Seungkwan asked Mingyu and Jeonghan. “Weren’t you just here?”

“Seungkwan.” Vernon said again, raising his voice a bit to get the frightened Seungkwan’s attention. “Hang up the phone.” 

Seungkwan did. Another ringing sound went through the room, this time from a yellow payphone that Jeonghan hadn’t yet noticed. Vernon had walked over to it as soon as he’d gotten off his motorcycle, and picked up the receiver immediately. 

“Minghao?” He asked. Whatever the response was--because he must have gotten a response--it must have been urgent, because he slammed the receiver back on the phone.

As soon as he did, the entire room seemed to breathe. Seungcheol was squeezing his hand back before he’d fully finished blinking, looking over to Jeonghan in surprise. 

It was Seokmin’s shout, more than anything, that alerted Jeonghan that something else was happening, and he looked in the direction of the noise. Minghao had materialized in the middle of the room. His posture was slightly hunched, and like before, he didn’t look quite right; he was wavering, blurry and glitching, disappearing for just a blink before reappearing again. There was a strangled sort of sound from Jeonghan’s left, Jeonghan looking over to see Junhui breaking into a run. He made it to Minghao in just a few seconds, wrapping his arms around Minghao’s thin frame, his arms crushingly tight and his face buried in Minghao’s neck. 

Minghao seemed weak in Junhui’s embrace, bringing his own arms up to rest on Junhui’s back. The moment the hug was complete, something seemed to shudder through the building, rocking the concrete and putting a creak in the metal, the feeling of it going up the soles of Jeonghan’s feet and vibrating through his chest. It was like some kind of pulsewave, and Minghao’s knees completely gave out, Junhui crouching with him, keeping him pulled in close to his chest. For a moment, the air was completely still. 

A sharp, gasping inhale came from Jeonghan’s right, Jeonghan glancing over to see Vernon and Minghao’s friend Chan. His eyes were wide with terror, his head moving sharply as he looked around the open floor of the parking garage. There was something knowing in his expression, a kind of realization, and the bottom fell out of Jeonghan’s stomach. 

Then the entire parking garage came down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you every just watch that 15 min compilation vid of mingyu and woozi being cute with with other predebut and cry a little bc that's what I did the entire time I was writing that confession scene  
> the next chapter is the last!!! thank you all so much for enjoying this fic so far ♡


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow. We're finally here. This is the second seventeen fic I've ever written (I know the 13 tagged svt fics on here make that seem like a lie but I started writing this fic in february, it just took a while to finish) and the response has been way past my expectations, as well as incredibly kind ♡ I hope everyone enjoys the last chapter!

_**15** _

Vernon couldn’t get his eyes open. Not because he couldn’t find the force to move them; they felt glued closed, thick and sticky, but when he reached up to wipe at them, his left wrist refused to move, the attempt at the action bringing a sting of pain to his eyes. He let it dangle, using just his right hand instead, and his fingers came back warm and wet. But wiping helped unstick his eyelashes, able to crack his eyelids open, seeing that his hand was slick and red. Blood. He had blood in his eyes. 

He dragged himself into a sitting position, the movement so painful that it ripped a gasp through his lips. The air was thick with dust and he coughed it right back out on reflex, wheezing. He could hear his own heartbeat, feel his own heartbeat, his pulse pounding in his ears, in what had to be the bleeding gash on his head, in every single place that ached and stung. Everywhere. It was heavy and dizzying, Vernon struggling to think, struggling to remember what happened, and how he had gotten here. 

The parking garage had collapsed. He’d answered the yellow pay phone, bringing Minghao back to the present. He’d ridden to Seungcheol’s apartment with Mingyu sitting behind him, holding onto him with only one arm, so tight around his ribs that it almost hurt. He’d driven his motorcycle into Wonwoo’s house, incredibly lucky that the wall had yielded instead of his handlebars, incredibly lucky that he hadn’t hit anyone. Joshua had kissed him. 

Joshua. _Joshua._

“JOSHUA!” 

The shout had his head pounding but he ignored it, struggling to his feet. The change from sitting to standing dotted his vision with black spots and he swayed heavily, his hands finding a rebar pole protruding from a thick chunk of concrete, grabbing at it as he stumbled. 

“Joshua?!” 

Everything hurt, Vernon needing to squint to look around. He was surrounded by a mess of rubble, the air hazy and the ground an obstacle course of debris. He could see a few people on the ground, their clothes pops of color against the lumps of concrete, but he was too dazed to make out who they were. It looked as though maybe only a third of the parking garage had crumbled under the sonar pulse that bringing Minghao back had caused, but it had been the third they’d been standing in. 

“Joshua!” 

Vernon couldn’t tell how loudly he was actually shouting. Inside his head, it felt too loud to be real, echoing and vibrating and making his vision blur. It couldn’t actually be that loud though, had to be quiet, had to be silent, because Joshua hadn’t responded. Maybe Joshua simply couldn’t hear him. 

“Joshua? Joshua!”

Vernon had never had to do this before, had to verbalize wanting Joshua close to him. Joshua’s hone on his mind was strong; he was so familiar with Vernon’s thoughts that he could find him as far away as any yell Vernon could make, and if Vernon wanted him, he would come. He always had, just stepping closer without asking questions. The fact that Vernon was yelling for him, yelling for him so loudly and it wasn’t working, had panic welling in Vernon’s chest. 

“Vernon!” That was Joshua’s voice. It was Joshua’s voice, and it had to be close, but Vernon was too disoriented to tell where it was coming from. Hearing it was a relief anyway, and Vernon turned, trying to see him, wiping at his eyes again. “Behind you, we--we’re over here, help--”

Vernon turned again, trying very hard not to fall down, and saw them; Joshua and Wonwoo, struggling against a large chunk of concrete and metal, the thing spider-like in the way that the metal bars were extending over them. He got to them as fast as he could, letting out a curse of gratitude when he saw that aside from some cuts and bruises, Joshua was relatively unscathed. Wonwoo looked that way too until Vernon noticed his right arm, and how it was hanging from his shoulder like a dead limb, his jacket ripped open at the elbow with blood running all the way down his fingers. 

“I’m fine, I just need help moving this.” Wonwoo said. Vernon wasn’t sure how much help he would be, but he could try, and together the three of them worked to get Wonwoo and Joshua out from under the rubble without anyone getting flattened. 

“Wonwoo saved me.” Joshua said, stepping close to put Vernon’s face in his hands, his eyes full of worry. Vernon couldn’t help it, the relief of Joshua being alive and uninjured too strong, pulling him in for a tight hug. Joshua held him back, and Vernon turned his head to press a kiss to the side of Joshua’s face. He could feel Joshua’s skin under his lips, warm and alive, and that, more than any of the pain he was feeling, truly made his eyes well up and spill over, and he pushed his face into Joshua’s neck with a whimper. Joshua pulled back at the sound, looking over Vernon’s face, wiping Vernon’s cheek with the length of his thumb, his hand coming back dark and wet with tears and dirt and blood. 

“I love you.” He told Joshua, because he had to tell Joshua, despite how clearly Joshua may be able to hear it in his head. He needed it vocalized, no space in his mind for anything else, and thought he saw tears bright in Joshua’s eyes as Joshua leaned in, pressing a light kiss to Vernon’s lips. 

“I know you do.” He said, his voice soft. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Vernon tried to answer, but he was having a hard time focusing on anything that wasn’t Joshua’s big brown eyes, the edges of his vision blurring. Seeing Joshua upright and okay had him realizing his own injuries; his head felt wrong in ways he didn’t even know how to describe, and he ached all over, and his left arm was numb from the middle of his forearm down to his fingertips. “I don’t think so.” 

Joshua nodded, and watching the action was dizzying. “You stay here; I’ll look for Chan, Junhui, and Minghao, okay?”

“Okay.” Vernon repeated, but then Joshua started to walk away, and he didn’t want Joshua to walk away, stumbling to catch up, reaching for his hand. They found Chan only a little ways away, on his knees with tears down his face, but he looked relatively unscathed too. He was kneeling next to Minghao, who was sobbing openly, bent over Junhui’s body, holding tightly to Junhui’s hand. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Minghao was saying. Junhui was flat on his back, or as flat as he could be with the rubble around them, and the rise and fall of his chest was weak, but his eyes were fixed on Minghao’s. And Minghao and Chan weren’t the only ones crying; Jeonghan was just a short ways away, tear tracks cutting through the dirt on his face as he tried to help Seungcheol, who was struggling into a sitting position. 

Once Seungcheol was sitting up, he fell forward, and his hand landed on Junhui’s arm. His face was screwed up, and he looked truly awful; he was bleeding from too many scattered wounds to count, his eyes barely open, and blood fell through his lips as he spoke. 

“I can’t--” He sounded horribly desperate, his breath shallow, rattling like his lungs were empty. “It’s not working. I don’t know why it’s not working.” 

“It doesn’t…” Joshua dropped to one knee, looking like he wanted to help, like he was too afraid to touch any part of anything happening for fear of worsening it, and like he was going to cry all at once. Touching Junhui wouldn’t help him. Nothing would help him. “Junhui doesn’t work like that.” 

“Seungcheol, please don’t--” Jeonghan didn’t seem to know that, crying harder, trying to pull Seungcheol off of Junhui, but he was too heavy. “Please, you’re going to kill yourself--you need to stop.” 

Seungcheol just grit his teeth. Minghao’s breath was coming to him in small, shaking gasps.

“You’re too hurt.” Jeonghan said. “He’s too hurt.” 

“Seokmin, let me _go!”_ Came a strangled shout, Vernon turning. Seokmin had Jihoon under the arms, who was flailing, kicking his legs out. At their feet was the crumpled and frighteningly still body of Mingyu, who looked small somehow, in the face of all the destruction he was half-buried in. As Vernon watched, Seokmin said something else, something Vernon was too far away to hear, Jihoon going limp in his arms. 

Minghao’s voice, soft and grief-stricken, brought Vernon back, and Junhui murmured in return, now looking completely lifeless aside from the grip he had on Minghao’s hand.

“Who called an ambulance?” Jeonghan called out, Seokmin shouting that Seungkwan had, but the dizziness was getting to be too much for Vernon. The whole world was swaying, his legs horrifyingly unsteady, and he stumbled. Arms caught him, Joshua’s arms, Joshua murmuring reassurances--“I’ve got you, you’re okay, you’re going to be okay”--as black spots began filling Vernon’s vision. They didn’t clear up, getting thicker, blotting out the entire world. As sirens began to sound in the distance, Vernon completely lost consciousness, Joshua’s voice in his ear the last thing on his mind as his eyes closed. 

_**16** _

The first thing Mingyu saw when he woke up was Soonyoung. His friend was sitting in the chair next to his bed, his phone in his lap, his eyes closed, his head tilted back and his lips parted, and Mingyu’s first thought was to try and throw something into his mouth.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. His first thought was how much his leg ached. His second thought was the realization that he was in a hospital, and in a hospital bed, a steady beeping on his right from a heart monitor attached to a sensor under his hospital gown. His third thought was Jihoon. Throwing something into Soonyoung’s mouth was maybe his sixth or seventh thought, but he’d had the time to think it before Soonyoung’s head tilted back too far, and the drop of it woke him up. He opened his eyes, meeting Mingyu’s gaze, and blinked himself into a more awake state. 

“Hey.” He said. “You look awful.” 

“Better than you.” Mingyu said, just because he could, though he knew it probably wasn’t true; Soonyoung had a badly split lip, a cut spanning his left cheek, and three fingers on his left hand were all splinted together, but he was sitting up. Mingyu was the one in the hospital bed, and he had the bulkiest cast he’d ever seen wrapping his entire right leg. 

“Seriously, you’re black and blue.” Soonyoung said. “You look worse than Seungcheol. Junhui has you beat, though--he’s still breathing, but he’s still in the ICU. He’s… He’s not stable yet. Wonwoo is in a cast, and Jeonghan’s fine, and--”

“Where’s Jihoon?” Mingyu asked. Soonyoung was okay, and Seungcheol, apparently, was okay, and Seungkwan had been the one to call the ambulance in the voicemail, so he had to be okay, but Jihoon...

“You don’t care about me?” Soonyoung asked, wincing a little as he got to his feet. “You don’t want to ask about your dear friend that stayed, waiting for you to wake up? I was worried about you!” 

“Well, I can see you.” Mingyu pointed out. He really, really wanted some pain medication. “I can see you, and you’re fine. Where’s Jihoon?” 

Soonyoung was already walking towards the door. “I’ll go get him.” He said. “He’ll be disappointed that he missed you waking up; he was in here most of the night.” 

Mingyu looked around for a clock as Soonyoung closed the door behind himself, discovering that it was sometime after four in the morning. Then Soonyoung’s head popped back into the room.

“Jihoon’s fine, by the way. So don’t worry too much. Be right back.”

Mingyu tried to think back to the last thing that had happened before he’d passed out, but he wasn’t sure he’d even been conscious before hitting the ground. All he remembered was how desperately he’d pulled Jihoon into his arms when the floor fell out from under them, wrapping his body around him and hoping that it would be enough.

Soonyoung truly was right back, pulling Jihoon behind him by the hand. Jihoon’s eyes met his as soon as he entered the room, Mingyu grateful, more than anything, to see him upright. Thankfully, he did look fine, coming to a stop at the foot of Mingyu’s bed. 

“That heart monitor is hilarious.” Soonyoung said, because embarrassingly, it had noticeably sped up when Jihoon entered the room. Mingyu resisted the urge to flip his friend off, but Soonyoung was already ducking out again. “I’ll tell the others you’re awake.” He said, leaving Mingyu and Jihoon alone.

“Come here.” Mingyu requested, holding an arm out. Jihoon did have a couple of injuries, a few small cuts and bruises visible, bandaids wrapped around some of his fingers and a butterfly bandage on his forehead, near his right eyebrow. Just looking at him wasn’t enough, and as soon as Jihoon was within arm’s reach Mingyu pulled him in for a hug, pulling Jihoon all but on top of him, holding him as tightly as he could. For just a moment, Jihoon was frozen in his arms. Then he let out a breath and hugged Mingyu back with a wild strength that caught him off guard, and Mingyu felt the telltale burn of tears in his eyes. 

“You protected me.” Jihoon said, the words quiet as he pulled back. “I’m--I’m the reason you look like this. Why would you do that?” 

“Because I love you.” Mingyu responded, the words as honest and open as he could make them. Jihoon’s entire body seemed to stop. He didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe, and Mingyu had the sinking realization that Jihoon didn’t remember. He didn’t remember anything they’d talked about, didn’t remember their first kiss, because it had never happened for him. It was more than Mingyu could stand, so he continued. “And you love me too.”

Jihoon stared at him for another long moment, and for a second, Mingyu thought Jihoon was going to deny it. 

“Mingyu, I--”

“Did they tell you?” Mingyu had to ask. “About the time split? That Jeonghan and Vernon and I got separated from everyone else?” 

Jihoon looked slightly taken aback by being interrupted, but after a moment he nodded. 

“Vernon… Vernon’s memory is a little weird right now, but Jeonghan mentioned it. He said that you three had two more hours than the rest of us did.”

Mingyu nodded back. “In that first timeline, nothing bad happened in the parking garage. We all went to Wonwoo’s house, and you took me aside, and apologized, and you… We talked, and you told me that you loved me.”

“Oh.” Jihoon’s voice was quiet, and that word seemed to be the only sound he could make, his jaw working. 

“And--we talked about so many things, I wish I could just…” It was frustrating, Mingyu wanting to be past this part already, wanting the fragile expression off Jihoon’s face. “I don’t have the same ability as my dad. I didn’t make you fall in love with me. I didn’t… I didn’t even know that was how you felt. I thought you hated me. But you don’t hate me, and I don’t hate you, so--”

“Wait.” Jihoon looked quickly at Mingyu. “But your ability--”

“Talking to animals.” Mingyu said. “That’s what I can do. You know, talking to Soonyoung.”

Jihoon seemed to be taking the news in, his body still again, so Mingyu reached over to hold Jihoon’s hand. And Jihoon let him, though his fingers were limp for a moment. Then his hand clenched around Mingyu’s.

“I’m actually in love with you?” He asked, his voice loud. 

“Why is that always so surprising for you?” Mingyu asked back, almost wanting to laugh. “That hurts.” 

“I--you--” Apparently, it was not the time for teasing, so Mingyu just closed his mouth for a moment and let Jihoon process everything. 

“We talked about the prank in high school, and we both kind of apologized for it.” He continued. “That’s when you told me that you loved me, but saying it kind of seemed like an accident. And you cried a little bit.” 

Jihoon let out what seemed like a muttered curse, though the actual words were too quiet for Mingyu to really hear. 

“And I told you what my real ability was, and that I loved you too, and… We kissed.”

“We kissed?” Jihoon’s voice was quick in surprise.

“Jihoon, you said that you loved me, and I was finally touching you again for the first time in years. Of course I was going to kiss you.” Mingyu said. “And it was the best kiss of my life, so any time you feel like giving me another one…” He opened his arms, and Jihoon finally laughed a little, which caused a huge smile to break out on Mingyu’s face. He realized in that moment that while he had made implications about being around Jihoon, he hadn’t made anything official, deciding now was as good of a time as any to ask. He slid his fingers between Jihoon’s, pulling Jihoon’s hand close to rest on his chest.

“And I know--I know that this usually comes before I love you and stuff, but Jihoon, would you--?”

Jihoon was already nodding, his movements quick, his grip tight on Mingyu’s hand, and Mingyu laughed a bit.

“You didn’t let me finish!” Mingyu exclaimed. “I could say anything right now, and you already agreed. I could...”

Jihoon was leaning in, just how close his face was causing Mingyu’s voice to die in his throat. The heart monitor sped up again.

“I forgot how annoying you are.” Jihoon told him, Mingyu laughing. It caused a smile on Jihoon’s face too, the expression muted, like he was trying to hold it in. Jihoon’s eyes didn’t leave his face, and when Mingyu was able to stop giggling Jihoon leaned in again, pressing a kiss to Mingyu’s lips. 

They were only kissing for a couple of moments before the door burst open. Jihoon jumped back, but Mingyu didn’t let him go too far, suspecting it to be one of their friends, and not really caring what that they had to say. His suspicion was wrong.

“Sir, are you alright?” It was a nurse with a concerned expression, and Mingyu felt his face go hot.

“I… What?” 

“Your heart rate was very high.” She said, and Jihoon hid a snort behind his free hand. She looked over the situation, her lips slightly pursed as she continued. “Please refrain from any strenuous activity, and don’t try to get out of bed.” 

“Okay.” Was all Mingyu really felt able to say, and after a moment, the nurse left the room. Jihoon collapsed on Mingyu in laughter, resting on his chest. 

“That was your fault.” Mingyu told him, but Jihoon just kept laughing. Mingyu tried to pull Jihoon fully into the bed with him but he didn’t have the strength, Jihoon understanding what he was trying to do and carefully climbing in on Mingyu’s uninjured side. 

“You should tell me about it.” Jihoon said. “About the whole conversation. I don’t want to have missed anything.” 

“Okay.” Mingyu agreed, despite it being nearly five in the morning. For now, his friends were alright, and he had Jihoon under his arm. Rest could wait. 

“So first, Seungkwan answered the red telephone…” 

_**17** _

“Now just--think about it.” Joshua was saying to Jeonghan, who was highly amused by Joshua’s tone. “This is your best friend, the guy you’ve been carrying a torch for since you were like, twelve, and you’re sixteen and hearing him maybe think that guys are cute for the first time. I thought I was going to die.” 

Jeonghan let out a loud laugh, getting a stack of napkins to start setting around the table. A large group of them were in Seungcheol’s apartment, preparing for a party. After five days in the Intensive Care Unit and two additional weeks in the hospital, Junhui was getting discharged today, so they’d decided to celebrate. It had been Seungkwan’s idea, partially an actual celebration, and partially, Jeonghan suspected, a chance to all come together, sit down, and talk about what had happened. Most of them were there already; Vernon, Seungcheol, and Mingyu were the only ones that had actually been hospitalized for more than one night, but they’d all been released after a week at most. Joshua, Chan, and Vernon had extended their stay at Soonyoung’s house, Minghao also there when he wasn’t at the hospital. 

Minghao was at the hospital now with Junhui. The only other person that wasn’t now at Seungcheol’s apartment was Seokmin, who had left a while ago to pick up some food from a Chinese restaurant that Minghao claimed was Junhui’s favorite. Everyone else was in full swing of setting up for the party. 

Despite his right leg being broken in three places, Mingyu had Jihoon lifted up onto his shoulders, Jihoon taping balloons and streamers around on the ceiling. Mingyu had his crutches under his arms to stabilize himself but it still looked incredibly dangerous, Jeonghan simply trying not to watch them in an effort not to give himself a heart attack, feeling a bit better by the fact that Wonwoo was behind Jihoon with one arm raised, ready to catch him if need be. And he could catch him, Jeonghan had full confidence, despite his other arm being plastered in a cast. Vernon was following behind the conglomeration, a thick cast on one wrist, giving them tape when they asked for it. Seungkwan had sat himself down on the coffee table across from Seungcheol, whose injuries--the broken ribs, more than anything--were keeping him from doing much more than sit on the couch. 

Soonyoung and Chan, who ended up getting along like a house on fire once they actually started talking, were having a dance battle in the corner under the guise of picking party music. They’d get to about the chorus of a song before they’d get bored of it and switch it, lots of laughing and silly movements always going on whenever Jeonghan glanced over to look. Jeonghan and Joshua were finishing setting the table, Joshua telling him the seemingly long-suffering tale of getting together with his now--and apparently, very recently now--boyfriend Vernon. Jeonghan couldn’t decide what was funnier; the actual story, or the way Joshua was telling it.

“--then he shows up, because he’d rode to my house at midnight, just to see me, and all I wanted to do was kiss him. He was even staring at my mouth before I talked to him.” 

“Why didn’t you?” Jeonghan asked. “I know I would have. I kissed Seungcheol a bunch of times before we started dating.” 

Joshua’s ears had gone a bit pink. “I could actually hear his thoughts, and... I knew he thought I was attractive, but he never actually thought anything about liking me.”

“Still should have gone for it.” Jeonghan told him, and Joshua started laughing. 

“I tried!” He exclaimed. All of the plates and bowls were laid out now, with a stack of them at the end of the table for people to use when they ran out of chairs. Seungcheol’s table was not big enough to fit all thirteen of the expected guests, so they’d probably also be sitting in the living room and on the floor. Jeonghan was simply standing across from Joshua now, Joshua’s hands on the back of a chair. Jeonghan gasped.

“Did he dodge the kiss or something?” He asked, shocked. He couldn’t imagine anyone dodging a kiss from someone that looked like Joshua. 

“No, but I--I put my chin on his shoulder, and I made sure he was looking at me, and I could tell he was distracted by me--and I asked him if there was anything he wanted to do to de-stress. To like, take his mind off what was worrying him.”

“And he didn’t jump you?”

“He asked me if I wanted to play video games.” Joshua’s tone was completely exasperated. “I even asked him if he was sure. But we ended up playing video games.”

“Joshua, I think he might be too stupid for you.” Jeonghan said, and Joshua burst out laughing, Jeonghan laughing back. He’d gotten to know all of the newer people over the past two weeks, and was coming to find that he really liked them. Chan and Minghao were people he found himself wanting to take care of, Vernon was incredibly calm and kind, and Joshua was the one he’d been talking to the most, someone that Jeonghan decided he really liked, someone he already wanted to add to the collection of people that he loved and that loved him in return. Part of him just wanted to ask Joshua to be his friend, and part of him felt that he was too old to do something that juvenile. Then again, that was how he’d gotten the rest of his friends, and they were the best people in his life, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

“Sure.” Joshua said, seemingly out of nowhere, and _oh, right._ Jeonghan was still trying to adjust to the fact that Joshua could read his mind. “I’d love to be your friend.” 

“Oh, okay.” Joshua’s smile was kind, and it had Jeonghan relaxing a bit. “Thanks.” 

“Minghao just texted!” Vernon called over the noise, looking down at his phone in one hand, holding up the other hand like he was in class and had a question for the teacher. It worked though, everyone looking over at him. He had a long, sealed up line from where he’d had stitches across his forehead. He’d been very disoriented for hours after they’d arrived at the hospital thanks to the blow to the head he’d received, and apparently, was still having trouble both with sleeping, and with properly waking up. “Junhui's being discharged now; they’re ready to be picked up.” 

“I’ll call my driver.” Seungkwan said, pulling his phone out. He was going with Vernon and Joshua to get Junhui and Minghao from the hospital, to bring them here. “Someone tell Seokmin to hurry with the food.” 

“I’ll text him.” Wonwoo offered, Jeonghan glancing over at him. Wonwoo had stopped hovering behind Mingyu and Jihoon now, but Mingyu and Jihoon seemed to have deemed their part of the decorating over; Jihoon was climbing down from Mingyu’s shoulders, giggling a bit as Mingyu caught him in a bridal carry, going pink when Mingyu leaned close to press their foreheads together. Once, while drunk in Jeonghan’s apartment at three in the morning, Jihoon had told Jeonghan that one day, he was going to climb Mingyu like a tree. The two of them had been relatively mushy and shameless for the past two weeks, but Jeonghan was glad to see Jihoon finally getting the opportunity to, quite literally, clamber all over Mingyu again.

Seungkwan, Joshua, and Vernon all made their way out once Seungkwan’s driver showed up, Jeonghan going over to sit with Seungcheol on the couch. He didn’t nestle close, worried about hurting him, just taking his hand instead. 

“You alright?” He asked, and Seungcheol nodded.

“You?” Seungcheol asked back. 

“I’m fine. Excited for the party.” Jeonghan smiled, and Seungcheol smiled back, rubbing Jeonghan’s hand with his thumb. Seungcheol still had a couple of fading bruises on his face, yellowed and only days away from completely disappearing. To Jeonghan, the most distracting injury Seungcheol had was the small new scar on the side of his mouth. It wasn’t deep enough to stay, a cut that had healed quickly and would fade with time, but seeing it brought Jeonghan back to right after they’d all fallen, Seungcheol spitting up blood as he spoke, as he tried to put his hands on Junhui and take some of Junhui’s pain away. 

Seungcheol had broken four ribs, one of them completely shattered, the injury also puncturing his left lung and causing it to collapse. He’d had surgery to repair the lung and reset the bones, all of it occurring without complications, and he was on track to heal in the coming weeks. The first thing Jeonghan had done when Seungcheol had fully woken and come around from the surgery was kiss him. The second thing had been to cry. The third had been to yell, and they’d had a full fight about all of it. 

Jeonghan hadn’t meant to have the fight. He hadn’t meant to yell--though most of the words had been very broken and soft because his throat and lungs hurt too much from sobbing to truly have force behind them--and definitely hadn’t meant to do it in the hospital, with Seungcheol in the hospital bed, covered in cuts and bruises and looking at Jeonghan like his heart was breaking. He just hadn’t been able to help it. There was something about seeing Seungcheol with the hospital gown and the IV line and the heart monitor, his eyes closed; there was something about hearing the steady beep of the machinery that was telling Jeonghan he was still alive and knowing that if Junhui’s ability had been anything other than power resistance, he wouldn’t be. 

Jeonghan had accused Seungcheol of a lot of things. Of not listening. Of being brave; of being stupid. Of being blinded by his suicidal recklessness. Of not caring. The last one was the only point Seungcheol had tried to argue with him on, but Jeonghan hadn’t let him. He’d had to stop for a moment, had to breathe, had to collect himself, and he still hadn’t been able to get the words out without crying.

“You can’t say that you love me. You can’t say that you care about me, and then try to do the one thing that would hurt me more than anything in the world--try to kill yourself--right in front of me.” 

Seungcheol didn’t respond, just holding him, Jeonghan pulling back to see that Seungcheol’s eyes were wet with tears. 

“I’m sorry.” 

That was all he’d said, his voice incredibly soft, and Jeonghan shook his head. 

“I can’t trust that. You know I can’t trust that.” 

“It’s just… It’s better if I get hurt. It’s better if it’s me.”

“It’s not better for the people that love you.”

Seungcheol had been very quiet after that.

“I’m sorry.” He’d said again, and upon glancing around the room now, Jeonghan found himself glad that Wonwoo’s arm was still broken, that Mingyu’s leg was still broken, that Jihoon still had bruises on his face. That everyone was still hurt, but healing slowly. Healing on their own. 

“Hey!” Came a shout from Soonyoung, breaking Jeonghan from his reverie. “Do you mind?” 

It wasn’t hard to figure out what Soonyoung was yelling about. Instead of putting Jihoon down, Mingyu had put Jihoon on Seungcheol’s kitchen counter. Mingyu had stepped up between Jihoon’s legs, Jihoon’s arms around Mingyu’s neck, and though Jeonghan couldn’t see either of their faces, he would bet money that someone’s tongue was down someone else’s throat. 

“I make food on that counter!” Seungcheol exclaimed in protest. “Don’t do that.”

“You don’t cook, Cheol.” Jeonghan told him. Neither Jihoon nor Mingyu were paying the room any attention. 

“Stop being gross!” Soonyoung shouted again, looking ready to chuck his phone at them. Mingyu, without stopping, flipped Soonyoung off. 

“Some of us are single!” Chan yelled, but he was laughing a little, laughing harder when Jihoon flipped them off too. Wonwoo let out a wolf-whistle, and that had Jeonghan breaking down into giggles. Mingyu seemed to feel that they weren’t going to be left alone, letting Jihoon go and turning around. His lips were dark and wet, and behind him, Jihoon looked a bit dazed. 

“Hop on.” Mingyu told Jihoon, and after a moment Jihoon did, wrapping his arms around Mingyu’s neck. 

“That’s dangerous!” Jeonghan protested, but it didn’t seem to matter; swinging on his crutches, Jihoon giggling, Mingyu carried Jihoon into Seungcheol’s bedroom, Jihoon kicking the door closed behind them. 

“Hey!” Seungcheol yelled, trying and failing to rise from the couch. Jeonghan pulled him down to keep him still. 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” He chastised. “They’re cute. Let them be.” Out of everyone, Jeonghan had found that he was the one that minded Mingyu and Jihoon’s blatant affection the least. It had been so long in coming, and really, it was nice to see Jihoon so happy. 

“That’s our bed!” Seungcheol exclaimed at him, pointing dramatically, and Jeonghan raised his eyebrows. 

_“Our_ bed?” Jeonghan asked. “I don’t live here.”

“Yet.” Seungcheol mumbled, and a warm happiness flushed through Jeonghan’s entire body. 

“They’re almost back.” Wonwoo reported, looking at his phone. “Seungkwan, I mean. With Junhui.” 

“What about Seokmin?” Soonyoung asked, walking up to Wonwoo, pulling out his own phone. 

“He didn’t respond.” 

“I’ll call him.” Soonyoung tapped at his phone, cocking his hip as he put the device to his ear. Chan also walked over, sitting next to Jeonghan, giving him a grin when Jeonghan glanced over at him, and Jeonghan had to grin back. The kid was cute. 

Seokmin’s voice was audible through Soonyoung’s phone, his greeting in hilariously random and accented English. 

_“Hey man!”_

_“Hey!”_ Soonyoung responded. Then, “Where are you? Did you get lost or something?” 

All they really managed to figure out was that no, Seokmin was not lost, but they didn’t get much information on his location, because the conversation deteriorated quickly, turning into a skit. Before long Seokmin was on speaker, his Grandpa voice loud and gruff, Soonyoung whining back at him in his Grandma voice; Seungcheol was giggling so much that Jeonghan was worried about him breaking another rib, and Chan was watching the entire exchange was something akin to wonder on his face. 

“What, do your friends not do this?” Jeonghan asked him. 

“It’s kind of just Junhui being weird by himself, mostly.” Chan responded, and that had Jeonghan laughing. Soonyoung completely broke a couple of minutes later and the skit was over, Seokmin promising that he would be there soon and hanging up. Soonyoung was smiling dumbly at his phone for a while after the conversation ended, but Jeonghan didn’t comment on it. 

“Oh, they’re here.” Chan said suddenly. 

“Who is?” Wonwoo asked back. 

“Seokmin, Seungkwan, and Joshua.” He responded. “With Junhui, I guess.” 

A moment later, a mess of noise burst through Seungcheol’s door. As Chan had said, it was Seokmin, Seungkwan, and Joshua, though they were all a mess; Seokmin was scrambling to get inside, Seungkwan was trying to hold him back, and Joshua was tugging on Seungkwan’s shoulders. They fell into a heap on the floor, and in the distance Jeonghan could hear Vernon laughing. 

“I win!” Seokmin exclaimed triumphantly, probably because he’d managed to shove his body through Seungcheol’s doorway first. 

“I would have won if it wasn’t for Joshua!” Seungkwan protested, turning to Joshua in indignation. “I thought we were friends! What were you taking his side for?”

“I just thought we wanted the food to get to the party before the guest of honor did.” Joshua responded, a mock innocence to his voice that Jeonghan recognized immediately, unable not to smile. Seungcheol recognized it too, giving Jeonghan a look. 

“You two are going to be terrifying together.” He remarked, and Jeonghan beamed. 

Vernon helped Joshua to his feet, and a moment later Minghao and Junhui were coming through the door. 

It had been about a week since Jeonghan had last seen Junhui. He felt a bit awkward about visiting him, mostly because he felt that Junhui felt awkward seeing him, and didn’t want to do that to Junhui while he was lying in a hospital bed. But thankfully, Junhui looked remarkably better than he had even a week ago. If nothing else, he was sitting up instead of lying down; he was in a wheelchair, an immobilizing sling on one arm for his broken shoulder. Both of his legs had casts, but only one was actually for his leg, the other a boot for his broken ankle. He had some bad scrapes too, but they all had those, and he smiled when he saw all of the decorations. 

“Yay!” Chan let out a loud shout as Minghao wheeled Junhui through the doorway, jumping in front of him, moving to give him a hug before aborting the action and smiling brightly instead.

“Is all of this for me?” Junhui asked, looking around the room, his mouth open. 

“Of course it is.” Jeonghan told him, and the only one smiling brighter than Junhui was Minghao as he watched Junhui look around. 

“I need some help getting the food from the car.” Seokmin said. “There’s a lot of it. I was coming up to ask for help, but then Seungkwan’s car pulled into the parking lot at the same time and he decided it was a race.”

“You were the one that started running.” Seungkwan pointed out.

“Someone needs to tell Mingyu and Jihoon that you guys are here, too.” Wonwoo said.

“Where are they?” Joshua asked.

“My bedroom.” Seungcheol replied stonily. Seungkwan ended up losing the rock-paper-scissors game, made to go into Seungcheol’s bedroom and interrupt the couple; he dragged Vernon with him, both clinging to Vernon’s arm for emotional support and covering Vernon’s eyes at the same time, “just in case”. None of that was necessary though, because apparently the couple had been found simply sitting on the bed and talking. Mingyu insisted that he’d only wanted to rest his leg, Jihoon acting genuinely appalled at the insinuations the group was making, though he only managed to keep the facade on for a couple of seconds before breaking down and shoving his face into Mingyu’s back. 

Junhui was extremely touched by the care they’d taken to drive all the way to his favorite Chinese restaurant for the food, his eyes bright as he watched them lay everything out on the table. Jeonghan tried not to stare at him, and at all the injuries he had, and tried not to think of how much physical therapy he would need. Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Wonwoo would need physical therapy too; maybe they could all do it together. 

“Okay, you guys are going to have to tell me what some of this stuff is.” Seokmin said dubiously.

“Oh, and he can’t have seafood.” Soonyoung said, pointing to Wonwoo, the thirteen of them piling their plates with food. The room quickly got noisy, despite everyone having food in their mouths, Jeonghan realizing that part of the reason for that was because he was eating with five extra people--really, nine extra people, considering how they’d been keeping company lately--than he was used to. It was better this way, though. And the new faces were settling into the group easily, Jeonghan unable not to smile as he watched Joshua feed Seokmin a bite from his plate, using his own chopsticks, like it was nothing. 

There was a lot of feeding each other, and only part of it was from the habitual sharing that they’d been falling back into over the past two weeks; a lot of them could only hold their chopsticks clumsily, getting help and giving help if needed. Junhui wasn’t the only one looking considerably better after just a week of healing, because now most of the bruises were gone. The week before, they had all been horrifyingly black and blue. 

All of their hospital bills were already paid for. Despite it being their fault for trespassing on an under-construction project, Seungkwan’s father had gotten into a considerable amount of trouble--according to Seungkwan--with Mingyu, Seungcheol, and Soonyoung’s parents, and had agreed to cover the entire group’s medical fees. 

“Oh, and everyone is getting a new motorcycle, too.” Seungkwan piped up from a chair in the living room. All of their motorcycles, more or less, had been destroyed. “So everyone needs to make sure to text me what bike they want. Price doesn’t matter! I will be judging color choices, though.” 

“...does it have to be a bike?” Seungcheol asked after a hesitant moment. Seungkwan frowned at him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I, uh…” Jeonghan grinned when he noticed that Seungcheol’s ears were turning red. Whatever he was about to say, it was going to be embarrassing. “I only started riding a motorcycle because Jeonghan thought they were cool. I really think cars are a lot less scary.” 

“You want my dad to buy you a car?” Seungkwan asked, his mouth open, while Jeonghan collapsed in his chair in laughter. 

“Oh, is a car an option?” Joshua asked with interest. “I think I’d rather have that too.” 

“You don’t like your bike?” Vernon asked in surprise. “You said you liked riding a motorcycle.”

“I like it fine, but a car would be better.” Joshua told him. “Besides, I only really liked riding with you. It was an excuse to hug you.”

“You never need an excuse to hug me.” Vernon looked taken aback.

“Some people get nervous!” Seungkwan exclaimed, Joshua pointing excitedly at Seungkwan for the defense. 

“See? Nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” Vernon asked, still shocked. The exasperation on Joshua’s face led to a burst of laughter. 

“It’s okay.” Seungkwan said. “I don’t really want a motorcycle either. I haven’t really liked to ride since I spun out. Since I almost hit you!”

The last sentence was loud, and directed at Minghao. Minghao looked slightly startled by being pointed at, but he drew his eyebrows together and leaned towards Seungkwan in interest. 

“Sorry?” He asked.

“I almost hit you with my motorcycle, do you remember? Weeks ago, before any of this happened, a stranger appeared in the middle of the road. It was just you, though." 

After a moment, Minghao did remember. “That didn’t happen weeks ago, for me. It happened when time messed up. When I was stuck.”

“What was it like?” Wonwoo asked. “When that was happening, what was going on for you?” 

“I was… It was all happening…” He looked like he was casting around for a word, glancing at Junhui.

“Simultaneously?” Junhui offered, but at Minghao’s head shake, tried another one. “Spontaneously?”

Minghao nodded.

“It was spontaneous, I guess. I couldn’t control anything, like when it would happen, or where I would go. Usually when I would travel through time, it was hard to control, but I was always in my own timeline. It would be moments from my past, or something in the future, but not this time.” Minghao was speaking hesitantly, but Jeonghan couldn’t tell if it was because of the confusing subject, or because of the amount of people watching him. He spoke very deliberately. “I think, in using the power I had left, I was getting attached to--and appearing in--other peoples’ timelines. That’s what gave me the idea to attach myself to Junhui’s timeline to come back.”

Jeonghan didn’t really know what Minghao meant by “attach myself” but nobody else asked, so he didn’t speak up. 

“I didn’t ever go forwards.” Minghao continued. “I went into the past. Even earlier than when I’d been born, a couple of times. That was the scariest, but it was good, because I managed to find a white phone that stayed with me, that I could use. I used it to call Vernon. I ended up dropping it, though.” 

“A white phone?” Soonyoung asked, his eyes wide with interest. “What did it look like?” 

“Um…” Minghao began gesturing with his hands. “It was… Boxy?”

“Did it have a rotary dial? That circle thing?” Soonyoung asked. “Did it have a teal panel on the front?” 

Minghao nodded to all of Soonyoung’s questions, and Soonyoung sat back in his chair. 

“That was my family’s phone.” He said, and Minghao’s eyes were big in surprise. “That--you, I guess--must be how we got it. It was in our family for a long time. It’s broken now, though.” 

“We should break ours.” Jeonghan heard Vernon mutter, but not quietly enough. To his surprise, he saw Minghao nod at the words. 

“I don’t think we should have it.” He said. “I think… I think what happened is all my fault.”

Protests were immediate, the loudest voice Junhui, reaching over with his uninjured arm to touch Minghao’s hand. Minghao shook his head at them all. 

“When I could go forwards, I would see myself with Junhui. I… I loved him before I met him, and I looked for him my whole life. Hearing that voicemail, the thought of losing him…” Minghao was talking about Junhui like he wasn’t in the room, but his grip was white-knuckled on Junhui’s hand. Jeonghan had the thought that if Minghao actually did say the words coming from his mouth to Junhui, he would start to cry. “If I hadn’t known, I wouldn’t have run away. I wouldn’t have destroyed a piece of who I am. It was the energy that I put into that phone was what made the building fall apart. That wouldn’t have happened without the way I acted.”

“Wait, destroyed?” Joshua asked. “You can’t go into the future at all? 

Minghao shook his head.

“I can travel backwards.” He said. “And only barely. Trying to use my ability at all is difficult now.”

Mingyu made a loud gasp of inspiration. 

“Maybe it’s because of Junhui?” He offered, pointing to the Junhui in question. “Your ability was really weak, and Junhui’s ability is to counteract all other abilities; maybe his ability did something to you when you touched him again? Because something definitely happened in that moment.”

“That would be something to look into.” Wonwoo agreed with a nod. The theory was an interesting one, but Jeonghan wasn’t sure that it called for quite the amount of amazement that Seokmin and Vernon had on their faces. 

“Okay, we all know that Mingyu is smart; you don’t need to look at him like that.” Seungkwan complained, gesturing grandly in Jihoon’s direction. Jihoon, who had been gazing at Mingyu, gave Seungkwan a glare instead.

“Yeah, actually, I’ve been wanting to mention something…” Chan’s voice was slow, but there was an unmistakable teasing tone to it, and the two Chan was sitting between--Soonyoung and Minghao--were both wearing expressions that hinted at restrained laughter. Chan pointed across the table, where Jihoon and Mingyu were sitting. “Could you not do stuff under the table like that? I’m trying to eat.” 

Seokmin’s mouth fell open. Mingyu’s eyes were huge, Jihoon’s cheeks dusting pink, a loud and wild giggle bursting from Minghao’s mouth, and Jeonghan had to fight to not spit his mouthful of food out on the table as he choked back a laugh. He wanted to keep Minghao and Chan forever.

“Fine.” Mingyu said, and instead of denying the accusation, brought his arm up, Jihoon’s arm coming with it. His hand was resting on the tabletop now, the back of it against the wood, Jihoon’s hand on top of his, their fingers tangled together.

“You’ve been holding hands? While we’re eating?” Seungkwan asked, exaggerated disgust in his voice. “Just because Mingyu eats with his left hand, and Jihoon, you eat with your right--wait, did you sit next to each other in that order on purpose?!” His voice was rising in incredulity, and people were already laughing. “Wow! We’re Mingyu and Jihoon! We have to hold hands when we do everything! When we eat! When we write letters!” 

“We weren’t holding hands the whole time!” Mingyu protested, but that didn’t seem to matter. Seungkwan was too far gone, reaching out dramatically and grabbing at the person next to him, which happened to be Junhui, holding Junhui’s hand. Junhui obviously found the touch surprising, especially because Seungkwan had grabbed at the hand that was held still by the brace for his shoulder, and that wasn’t an arm he could move. But he could move the other arm, and caught onto the joke quickly; before long, Seungkwan and Junhui were a mirror image, both furiously pretending to scribble notes at the same time. The entire room dissolved into laughter.

“Do they hold hands while they brush their teeth?” Wonwoo asked, miming toothbrushing. Soonyoung pulled a face. 

“I don’t want to know what they do in the bathroom.” He said. Jihoon gave him a long-suffering look.

“Don’t be weird.” He said. 

“I was talking about the shower!” Soonyoung protested, as if that were somehow better. It wasn’t until the laughter had all died down that Jihoon spoke up again.

“Nope.” He said, keeping his face angled towards his plate, his next words around a large mouthful of rice. “Mingyu is too clumsy for that.” 

Seokmin fell out of his chair.

Vernon, Mingyu, and Jeonghan all talked about what they’d gone though, what had happened during the two extra hours that none of the rest of them had. The group already knew some of it--it had come up again when Jeonghan and Seungcheol had properly told everyone about their relationship--but the full story was requested and listened to raptly. Seungkwan shared his side of it, the way he’d stood in the parking garage with the red phone for nearly half an hour, not hanging the device up, too afraid to do anything out of fear of hurting his frozen friends. 

“And I mean all of you, when I say friends.” He assured them. “Because you’re all my friends. I actually haven’t told my dad that he’s buying motorcycles for everyone yet; that was just a trick to make everyone give me their phone number.”

“You didn’t have to trick me into giving you my phone number.” Vernon said. “You could have just asked.”

“It’s not that easy!” Seungkwan protested.

“Yeah, some people get nervous.” Joshua tacked on, Seungkwan pointing at him excitedly for the returned validation, and the whole table laughed.

“Okay, here.” Vernon pulled his phone from his pocket. “Who wants my phone number?”

Jeonghan did. Everyone did. Before long, all of their phones were being passed around, pictures being taken to set or update contact photos, and Jeonghan found himself very satisfied with the five new contacts he had. It felt like it was real, now; it felt like they were friends. 

“Alright!” He announced to the group, speaking loudly to garner everyone’s attention. “All of you are officially invited to my next birthday party, okay?” 

Mingyu started a cheer and everyone took it up, causing Jeonghan to laugh. 

“I do have one thing, though.” Chan said, once the yelling had died down and attention was on him. “Can we all agree to something?” 

“What?” Seungcheol asked him. 

“Don’t call me. Just text.” He said. “But if you absolutely have to call… Please never leave a voicemail.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES THEY ALL SURVIVED THEY'RE MY BABIES AND I NEED HAPPY ENDINGS OK ♡ A huge thank you to everyone that's read this!!! I'm on twitter all the time, so if you want to talk to me you can find me [here](https://twitter.com/sudamasochist). I'm halfway through another multichap right now (it's uh... quite different from this one lol) so hopefully that'll be out soon! Thank you all so much!


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